The Sundered Map
by Ariandir
Summary: A whole map can lead you where you've never set foot, to things of which you've never dreamed; but half a map won't get you far, or keep you safe...
1. The gunpowder price

Author's notes: I know what you're thinking: more mary-sue and awful she-pirate types falling madle in love with Jack Sparrow with a little bit of Will/Elizabeth romance on the side, right? Well...maybe something like that, but hopefully without the mary-sue part, and I do try to avoid stereotypes of genres when I can, hence my lady pirates will probably not be as miraculously resilient to the effects of stiff drinks (rum!) as they might wish, and they certainly won't be ten times stronger than all the men aboard the ship, although they may be a damn site better at a hand of cards. With that said, I get the distinct feeling I'm going to enjoy writing this fic, having been such an avid fan of POTC (and Johnny Depp) that I've been to see the film five times - pathetic, I know - (I have been on the ride too, but when I was really tiny), and I mean, come on! Who _doesn't_ love pirates?! My last words of these author's notes, then, will be that I hope you will enjoy reading this first chapter as much as I have enjoyed thinking it up (so many late nights - grrrrrr!), and when you finish, I hope you will find it in your scurvy, black hearts to review, savvy? We're devils and black sheep, we're really bad eggs...drink up, me hearties, yo ho! 

Disclaimer: All hail Terry Rossio, Ted Elliott, Gore Verbinski and Jerry Bruckheimer! They _rule_, peeps! 

Summary for Chapter One: When the crew of the Black Pearl discover half an ancient map in the writing desk of a merchant ship, Captain Jack Sparrow sets out to find the remaining piece, and recover the lost treasure. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Will are taken hostage aboard the Irish pirate ship The Dark Horse, captained by a direct descendant of the famous Irish pirate captain Morgan, and bound for Tortuga... 

-~*~- 

The ship blazed, half sunk beneath the water, her torn sails snapping in the wind. Crates and broken planks slammed against her sides, and then scattered as the gunpowder store suddenly erupted up through the deck in a plume of smoke and fire. 

Wreathed within the haze, the silhouette of another ship lurked at a close distance, the Jolly Roger writhing at the tip of her mast. Kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed against the smoke as they peered out at the sinking ship, his tanned fist tightened around the torn scrap of parchment in his hand, and he muttered a soft oath as the pyrotechnics finally blew her apart. 

As the roar of the explosion died away, the only sound to be heard was the comparatively quiet squealing of the bilge rats as they paddled from the wreck in their dozens; 'paddling to where?' Jack thought cynically. 

"Captain!" 

Jack didn't break his eye contact as a stout, stocky man with grey sideburns and a handerkerchief tied about his neck came wheezing to the bow, sweat glistening on his brow. 

"No souls could've survived tha', sir." He panted. "There'll be none left livin', now." 

The swarthy Captain took a deep pull of the smokey air. No, he hadn't intended for it to end this way. Pirate Captain though he was, scurvy cur though he might have been, innocent lives were not expenditures he made willingly; the gunpowder had been an accident. A costly one. 

"No souls, you say?" He asked. 

"Aye, Cap'n - no souls." Gibbs replied grimly. 

Jack could feel the eyes of the crew on his back, and he exhaled heavily down his nose. 

"Hoist the sails!" He ordered at last, turning from the helm. "We've got what we came for." 

"You heard 'im!" Gibbs bellowed as the crew hesitated. "Git t'work!" 

Jack stepped down from the bow, and made his way back along the deck, the roll of parchment still clasped firmly in his calloused hand. 

"Bill..." The Captain muttered with a small smile as he strode with his back to the floating inferno behind him. "If only you could see this..." 

-~*~- 

Elizabeth woke with a start when she found she couldn't breath. 

A hand was clamped firmly over her nose and mouth, and she struggled beneath the bed clothes as instinctive panic took over. 

"Not a sound, missy." 

The girl's thrashing stilled at the sound of a woman's sea-brogue speaking softly from the darkness beside her. 

"It's no skin off my nose whether ye can breathe or not, savvy?" 

Elizabeth, now desperate for air, nodded fervently against her captor's hand. The woman had pinched her nostrils closed, and while she could still suck in air through her covered mouth, it wasn't nearly enough. 

"That's better." The voice continued, speaking at a painfully slow pace. "Now, when I let go in a moment, I want ye to do exactly as I say, with no noise and no fuss. If ye want to survive this night, yer chances be much better if ye comply." 

It was all Elizabeth could do to keep herself from whimpering with the discomfort of her empty lungs as she tried to listen. 

"Do we have an accord, missy?" Prompted the voice. 

Beneath her captor's hand, the young woman nodded eagerly. 

'_Anything!_' She thought desperately. 

The woman carefully loosened her hold, and Elizabeth's chest heaved as she gasped in a deep lung-full of air. 

"Parler!" She gasped as soon as she had recovered her breath. 

There was an amused silence. 

"That won't do ye much good, m'darlin'." The voice said. "I _am_ the Cap'n." 

Elizabeth stared up into the darkness. 

"Now." Said the voice, still so close that the girl could feel the heat of breath on her face. "Impulse actions of any sort on yer behalf won't suit my purpose much, and I have a pistol right here in my hand," Out of the darkness came the click of a pistol being cocked to emphasise the point. "So don't try anythin' foolhardy, savvy?" 

"Yes." Elizabeth agreed quietly. 

"Good girl. Right: put on that dressin' robe of yers - it'll be chilly out at sea, and ye'll not be of much use to us if ye be ill." 

Elizabeth paused at these words as she pulled on the robe, two things having occurred to her. The first was her surprise at this implication of, albeit, slight concern for her welfare. The second, she voiced aloud. 

"Well, if I'm not going to be of much use to you _ill_, I certainly won't be of much use to you _dead_." 

There was a brief moment of quiet, and Elizabeth smiled as she listened to her adversary's silence. 

"A fair point, missy." Came the reply. "But that would only be if we were on the ship, and we're not. I can quite easily leave ye lyin' here with a bullet in your heart and be an ocean away by the time they find ye." 

The smile faded from Elizabeth's face, and she glared into the darkness at the hidden speaker as she finished donning her dressing robe with a final, defiant shrug. 

"I know how trying this must be on your patience, m'darlin', but bear with me." The seafaring accent was laced with amusement as it came softly out of the shadows. "Now tell me, how fare ye with heights?" 

"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth asked archly. 

"I wouldn't ask," The voice was now on the brink of outright mirth. "But I'll be wantin' ye to climb out of that window next." 

-~*~- 

The five marines advanced on the moored ship, muskets raised at the ready, and their white and crimson uniforms gleaming under the Caribbean moon. 

A solitary figure stood alone at the bow, one foot resting on the helm. 

Her slender figure was garbed entirely in black, from her loose shirt, tight, cloth corset and sash to her knee-high leather boots. Her dark hair rippled down past her shoulders in thick, silky waves, and her tawny, cat-like eyes gazed calmly from her pale face. 

In her hands, she held two long-barrelled pistols, crossed over her chest with their nozzles touching lightly against her shoulders, their silver flashing in the firelight of the ship's torches. 

"Tell me, gentlemen." She said in a low, smooth voice. "Which one of you is going to shoot me first?" 

There was an uncomfortable silence. 

Then, very suddenly, three things happened in the same heartbeat: a defeaning crack like breaking bones cleaved the quiet, followed immediately by a second before the snapping echo of the first had even died, and those marines at the fore leapt backwards as orange sparks showered out of what appeared to be thin air. 

One of the shots had been fired from the musket of a redcoat. 

The second from the pistol in the woman's left hand. 

Taking a cautious step forward, and peering down at the ground, an officer's eyes widened as he saw, glinting in the firelight, two bullets melded together by the sheer speed at which they had collided. 

"She deflected the shot with her own bloody gun!" He breathed. 

Another awed silence followed, before a daring marine fired a second shot; it was blocked with just as much ease as the first. 

The dark woman raised an eyebrow. 

"Third time lucky, perhaps?" She mused. 

It was a young soldier - a new recruit - that fired the final shot. It was a good shot, and the sparks showered from just infront of the ship's helm, but She evaded it, nonetheless. 

"And you're the King's Navy?" The woman asked softly, fixing each of them in turn with her dark eyes. "I'm certain, of course, that our beloved King George sleeps soundly in _that_ knowledge." 

She paused, savouring the indignant mutterings that simmered amongst the men before her with light satisfaction. 

"Well, I have no time for idle games, gentlemen." She said then, recapturing their attention. "If you will excuse me, I'll take my leave, and bid you a pleasant evening." 

And with that, she turned, her pistols still smoking in her hands, and disappeared silently from the helm. 

-~*~- 

The guard grunted into wakefulness as he heard the deadened thuds coming from the wooden door. 

The bayonets on the muskets glimmered, and reflected the dying light of the bracket-held torches on the armoury walls, and the countless sheathed sabres suspended in their racks cast long, finger-like shadows across the flagstone floor. 

The marine nervously tugged his tricorn hat, which had been perched precariously atop his white wig, back into place as he rose from his chair and snatched up his musket. 

Glancing momentarily down at the shiny toes of his black boots, he noticed the seam of blue, outdoor light at the foot of the door had been all together eclipsed, and as he did so, he heard a low, feral growl on the other side. 

A second later, the door had been forced open so violently that it was twisted right off its hinges, and the marine's toes hovered inches above the ground as a hugely muscled animal of a man lifted him into the air by his neck. 

Choking as he was, it was all the marine could do to try and shut out the putrid stench of raw meat on the man's breath, and the fear that stirred in him at the sight of the primeval, frenzied gleam burning in the brute's black eyes. 

"Khale." Came a young voice from the doorway. "Put him down." 

Khale curled back his lips in a snarl that revealed two rows of rotting teeth, and the guard remained conscious just long enough to see a small, wiry figure step into the dim light of the chamber before one final blast of Khale's rancid breath knocked him out. 

-~*~- 

As Elizabeth's feet touched the ground, she cried out in surprise as she felt strong hands grab her arms from behind, only to have another placed over her mouth. 

"Keep it quiet, little sister." Came a broad Caribbean accent in her ear. 

Elizabeth looked up as the woman who had woken her slid down the rope and, on touching the ground, turned to speak to her accomplice. 

She had a thick mane of dark-blonde hair, stray strands snaking in the warm breeze, and her grey eyes smouldered with a spirited light. Her high cheekbones and the bridge of her nose were touched with a few light freckles, and the gold hoops in her ears glinted as she spoke. 

"Where are Khale and Grapple?" She asked. 

Elizabeth stared at the woman as she realised she had suddenly disposed of her broad seafaring brogue. 

"Went to the armoury, I think." Came the reply from Elizabeth's shoulder. 

The blonde woman gave an uneasy nod, and then glanced past them down to the harbour. 

"Kate's still watchin' the Horse, is she?" She asked. 

"Aye, Captain." 

"Right." The woman turned her zestful grey eyes back to Elizabeth. "Let's be goin' then." 

Elizabeth felt herself firmly guided and steered along by the Captain's accomplice as they made their silent way down the dusty drive to the gates, which stood slightly ajar. 

"Take a good last look at that house, missy." The woman said in her affected accent as they stepped out onto the road. "Ye might not be seein' it again for a few months." 

-~*~- 


	2. Bloodcoats, magpies and horses

Author's notes: Yay! *^-^* I have a grand total of four whole reviews! _Four!_ Thanks bunches to Roz Morgan, Dark Lady2 (luv you guys so much! Mwah, darlings, mwah!), rythmteck, whose fic 'Inconvenient' I highly recommend to all Pirates fans, and, of course, m'dearest darlin' Emerin - thank you so much for your support, and especially to Roz and Lady since they've been patient enough to be my beta-readers hence forth, and I hope they will continue to do so. Rythmteck, special thanks to you as well for your c.c. - I've been aware from the start that Kate, out of all my o/cs, was very much in danger of becoming a Mary-Sue, but I've been working on some things in her background and her personality to try and prevent that; I will strive not to disappoint you, m'dear! Ok, I know this chapter doesn't take us very far, but at least they're actually sailing somewhere now, right? This lot of drivvle basically serves to pave the way for some much more interesting things that are yet to come and actually _do_ have something to do with the plot. Ok, I lie - this chapter has _alot_ to do with the plot, even though it doesn't seem to ;D Bear with me peeps - I shall be rewarding you for your patience. Enjoy chapter 2, and you know that lil' blue button at the bottom of the page? Click on it - something very fun happens... 

Disclaimer: Honestly, do I look like the sort of girl who'd be spending her time writing fanfics if she owned Jack Sparrow? *pouts* Alright, they're Disney's. But everything else that either doesn't sound familiar or is crap would be mine. *O-o* 

Chapter Summary: Jack muses over finding the half-map on the former merchant ship, the Calliope. Meanwhile, Captain Ioade and her crew make ready to sail for Tortuga with Elizabeth and Will both imprisoned in the brig, Ioade leaving a 'calling card' for Governor Swan in the process. The Black Pearl too plots a passage to Tortuga, in the hopes that Jack will be able to gather some information on the whereabouts of the other half of the chart... 

-~*~- 

Jack sat alone in his cabin as the windows grew dark, and the candles sunk in their brackets. 

Running a black-stained finger pensively back and forth over his lips, he studied the half-map held in his hand with his eyebrows knit into one long, dark line. 

"And what became of the treasure, William?" He murmured quietly. "What became of that?" 

Whichever way he looked at it, Jack couldn't believe that Barbossa could have sought the quarry this map revealed; his faith in his old friend Turner, and the rumours of what protected the treasure was too great for that. Of course, it was possible, but the fact that the map had been ripped in two suggested to Jack that Turner had defaced it so that Barbossa couldn't use it; but surely a sundered map wouldn't have stopped a determined man seeking a treasure so priceless as this one? 

Another mystery that tugged at the hems of his mind was how this half of the map had come to be where they had found it; and what of the other half? 

Jack sighed, and took a deep swig from the bottle of rum on the table infront of him. 

"You've got me there, Bill." He admitted. 

"Talking to yourself?" 

Jack looked up sharply, the hand that held the map surreptitiously dropping to his side. 

A slim black woman with long hair kept out of her face by a dirty bandana was standing in the doorway, observing him with mild amusement. 

"Too much rum addles the brain, Captain Sparrow." She cautioned. 

"Ana, didn't anyone ever tell you it's the done thing to knock before entering a man's private quarters?" Jack chided her irritably, the two front legs of his chair banging to the floor as he swung his booted feet off the edge of the table. 

"Is that so?" Anamaria raised an eyebrow. 

Jack flashed her a sarcasic grin, and she knew she'd had her fun. 

"We're in sight of Tortuga. Captain." She added as insurance. 

The swarthy man rose silently to his feet, making his way past Anamaria in his odd, rolling gate as he left the cabin. 

Anamaria chose to say nothing as she noticed he was still clutching a weathered scrap of old parchment in his left hand. 

-~*~- 

If there was one thing that leapt out at Elizabeth about that ship, it was the figurehead. 

For one thing, it was much larger than the others she had seen: instead of only measuring from the bowsprit down to the knee of the head, it stretched right from the bowsprit down to the water level. 

It was carved seamlessly in the form of a gargantuan warhorse, rearing up on its hind legs with its feathered front hooves pawing at the air. Its eyes were wild and aggressive, its ears flat back against its awesomely muscled neck, and its nostrils flaring wide. Its long mane rippled back from its crest, flowing back along the rail of the helm, and its tail curled in thick locks about its gaskins. 

The blonde-haired woman was surveying the ship with unmistakable pride. 

"Finest Irish pirate ship in the whole of the Spanish Main, that, missy." She said. "The Dark Horse." 

Elizabeth stared at it as she was marched along the pier, her blood rushing in her ears as she tried to soothe her nerves. 

The only condolence she could find to give herself was that at least this ship hadn't fired on Port Royale, hence she also couldn't imagine that these pirates could be any worse than Barbossa's crew. 

But as she was guided up the boarding plank and onto The Dark Horse, the truth of her perception suddenly seemed worthless. The deck was littered with the bodies of five marines, the blood on their crimson coats and grey faces almost black. 

Without really knowing why, but before she could stop the words spurting from her lips, Elizabeth asked: 

"Are they dead?" 

And for the first time, she suddenly appreciated that there was someone standing not four feet from her. 

A woman with long, glossy dark hair was surveying the corpses on deck with an eerie air of calm, her skin pale in the moonlight. She had long, elegant dark eyes, two silver-laced, long-barrelled pistols in her hands, and a single, golden band glinting on her left ring finger. Other than this, she was dressed entirely in black. 

At Elizabeth's words, she looked up, and replied in a low, even voice: 

"You might find, miss, that people at the firing end of a pistol don't usually very live long." 

The man holding Elizabeth gave a gravely grunt of laughter; the girl felt sick. 

"Take her to the cabins." The blonde-maned woman ordered. 

"Aye, Captain." Came the caribbean lilt from over Elizabeth's shoulder. 

As she was forced forward, Elizabeth found it in herself to put up a little bit of a struggle, but the man merely gave her a rough shake and put in a little more of his own bodyweight. 

The moment the two figures had disappeared through the doors at the far end of the deck, the captain approached the dark-haired woman. 

"You killed them all, Kate?" She asked, her tone edged with subtle disapproval. 

"Not _all_, Ioade." 

"It wasn't a redcoat, then?" 

Something in the black-garbed pistoleer's expression became wooden. 

"My aim never misses a blood-coat bastard." She replied, the smoothness of her voice giving way to a previously absent sharpness. Ioade raised an eyebrow. 

"There was a civilian - a gentleman blacksmith, by the look of him - who came when he heard the shots." Kate continued, the evenness of her tone recovered . 

"A_ gentleman_ blacksmith?" Ioade asked incredulously. 

Kate gazed back at her without even so much as a blink. 

"A gentleman blacksmith." She enforced silkily. 

"Why didn't more soldiers come?" The grey-eyed woman asked curiously. 

"Gunfire isn't silent, so they will soon." 

"Speaking of which, we'd better get these gentlemen shifted." Said Ioade, nudging the nearest corpse with the toe of her boot. "By the by, why didn't you kill the boy?" 

Kate looked Ioade straight in the face, fixing the captain's smoky grey eyes with her own golden-brown ones. 

"Because," She said slowly. "He was the spitting image of 'Bootstrap' Bill Turner." 

-~*~- 

Joshamee Gibbs couldn't pretend for an instant that he hadn't noticed Jack Sparrow's peculiar manner since the Calliope merchant ship had sunk. 

The captain had been quieter than usual, standing at the ship's wheel for hours on end to stare distractedly out at the horizon, and resolutely shutting himself away in his cabin to eat. 

And to drink rum. 

Gibbs wasn't a prying sort of man, but respectful of the fact that another man's business was another man's business, and quite content for it to stay that way, but Jack's thoughtful silence had stirred a curiosity in him, nonetheless. 

And that curiosity did nothing but increase Gibb's surprise when he turned from lighting the port-side navigation lantern one evening to see the Captain standing at the rail, looking out towards the tiny, luminous halos of Tortuga. 

Gibbs stared at the man's back for a moment, and then let fly a ream of filthy curses as the lighted splint between his thick thumb and forefinger curled back and burnt his fingertip. 

Jack looked back over his shoulder at the noise, and a metallic grin appeared on his face at the sight of his first mate angrily snuffing out the charred remains of the offending splint beneath his boot. 

"Nav lanterns are lit, then?" He asked innocently. 

"Too bloody right, they are." Gibbs grumbled, ambling to Jack's side. "How long'll we be stoppin' off in Tortuga for?" 

"Long enough to restock the Pearl with plenty of rum and grub, and allow the men to vent some of their frustrations." Came the reply. "And I've got a bit of business to be doin' in the meantime." 

"What sort of business, Cap'n?" A nearby crew member asked curiously. 

"Me own!" Jack snapped. "Back t'work you mangy cur! _Amain!_" 

The pirate cowered and quickly turned his attention back to mending the length of bight in his lap. 

"What is it's put ye in such a pecul'ar mood, Jack?" Gibbs asked in a soft voice when Sparrow had turned back to watching the lights of Tortuga draw closer. "There still be plenty o' rum in the hold." 

Jack grinned. 

"Aye, but not enough for a man who's had some serious contemplating to do." 

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. 

"What's in yer head, Jack?" He asked. 

"The night we raided the Calliope, I found something very interesting stowed away in the drawer of a writing desk." Jack slurred, his kohl-rimmed eyes slit so thinly that the whites had almost disappeared amid the dark brown. "A certain chart, or rather, I should say, half. Savvy?" 

Gibbs' eyes went wide for a moment, and then he uttered a gravely breath of laughter. 

"And ye'll be wantin' to find the other half, I suppose?" He said. 

Jack nodded, smiling. 

"If there ain't someone in that port who knows its whereabouts, Mr Gibbs, I'll eat me hat." 

"Two shillings, Cap'n Sparrow!" The iron-haired pirate challenged with a fierce grin. 

"Four!" Jack countered in his haggling voice. 

"Three and six, and I'll not budge!" Gibbs rumbled as Jack opened his mouth to speak. 

The dark pirate considered this for a moment, and then, with a roar of "Done!", they spat in their palms and clapped them firmly together. 

"Crrraawwk! Roll in the scuppers! Roll in the scuppers!" Cotton's macaw crowed above their heads. 

"I'll eat _you_ after me hat if you keep on with that attitude!" Jack growled. 

-~*~- 

"Khale and Grapple are back, Cap'n." The Caribbean pirate lilted in his rich voice. 

Ioade nodded. 

"All hands on deck amain - we cast off, and make passage for Tortuga." 

"It's a leading-wind, Cap'n - we'll be a-lee." 

"Heave-to and run up the sweeps, then - scull her out of the bay, douse and bring her about; she'll draw." 

"Aye, Cap'n." 

"Kate!" 

"Captain?" 

"Get Harlequin." 

"Aye, miss." 

"Khale! Man the capstan! Amazu! Marlin! Snub the slings, heave-to and take in sail! Grapple, fetch that figurine, and then scrub this deck from fore to abaft! I want her cleaner than she was when she were first built! _Cheerly_ now, you bilge rats!" Ioade barked. 

The deck of the Dark Horse was suddenly swarming with busy silhouettes, and below in the brig, Elizabeth shivered disconsolately as the timbers of the ship groaned and began to rock. 

In the neighbouring cell, Will lay slumped on the floor, his chest slowly swelling and shrinking with each breath beneath his loose shirt. 

Elizabeth wished to God he would wake up, and then she should have some company, but her wistful thoughts quickly vanished when she heard hurrying footfalls on the wooden stairs, and a small boy of about twelve came scurrying through the brig like a rodent, heading for the far end. 

Elizabeth sat upright on her knees and anchored both hands on the iron trellace as she peered out at the wiry figure rooting around the cargo on her left. 

"Where are yeh?" The boy murmured to himself in a broad Irish brogue, stooping to crawl between two large crates. 

Elizabeth watched him for a moment with a frown. 

"What are you looking for?" She demanded. 

There was a loud bang, which she took to mean that the boy had banged his head, and sure enough, after a long string of obscene, muffled curses had reached her ears, the small figure crawled out of the stack again, rubbing his crown ruefully with one hand. 

"Oh, it's you, colleen*!" He exclaimed after staring dazedly round the brig, and his thin face split into a grin as broad as his accent. Trotting across to her cage, he held his fisted hand out towards her, and curling out his fingers, revealed what looked like the knight's piece of a chess set, carved from a wine cask stopper. 

"Oi was lookin' fer this." He said. "Cap'n Ioade uses 'em as callin' cards - let's folks know when we've been around." 

He snatched back his hand so suddenly that Elizabeth flinched. 

"See yeh later, colleen." He grinned, after which he turned and skipped back up the steps. 

-~*~- 

Ioade stood drumming her fingers on the felloe of the ship's wheel, gazing out towards the blend of clear night sky and dark ocean on the horizon, when a soft weight on her shoulder caught her attention. 

Turning her head, a glittering pair of intelligent brown eyes met her vivacious grey ones, and the magpie cocked its sleek head to one side as though it were amused. 

Ioade gently smoothed its silky feathers with the backs of her fingers, and nodded her thanks to Kate, who stood a little off to one side, smiling. 

"Here y'are, Cap'n." Grapple panted, holding up the cask-cork horse's head for her to take. "Tat girl down in the brig was askin' questions." He added as he began to catch his breath. 

"Don't worry about it." Came the reply, Ioade slowly turning the carving over in her hand. "You can give her a bath later on." 

Grapple grinned knowingly, and as he was dismissed from the deck by Kate, the blonde-haired captain dug a hand into her waist sash, withdrew a thin, rolled-up slip of parchment, and holding the horse's head upside down, inserted it into a hole in the carving's base. 

Then she turned the whole thing right-way-up again and showed it to the magpie, watching patiently while the bird took it firmly into its glossy beak. 

"Go tell the Governor we've paid him a call, will you m'dear?" She said softly. 

In a flurry in glinting feathers, the magpie took off from Ioade's shoulder and disappeared off towards the lights of Port Royale. 

"One for sorrow." The Captain said with a small smile to her first mate. 

-~*~- 

Jack watched the heavy coils of rope go spinning through the air and land like dead bodies in the water as they pulled into the harbour. 

The familiar din of brawling, pistol shots, drunken hollering and singing that was a good deal better than it sounded reached his ears, and he took a long, deep, satisfying pull of the Tortuga bouquet - it was good to be back. 

"Drop anchor and hand the sails!" Gibbs roared as he belayed a length of rope to a cleat. "Ketch! You're on dog-watch t'night!" Wiping the sweat from his shining brow, the stocky man came to stand at Jack's side. 

"Where y'be thinkin' of lookin' first?" He asked gruffly. 

Jack wiggled his jaw thoughtfully for a moment, then said: 

"The Keelhauled Sailor." And when Gibbs gave him a strange look he added. "There are other ways in which one can aquire information besides askin', savvy?" 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and nodded with a mild expression. 

"Now," Jack murmured, more to himself than to his first mate. "I wonder if Giselle'll be speakin' to me yet..." 

-~*~- 

*colleen is the tradition Irish word for 'girl' 

Author's note: I'm not a seafarer of any description, so all the nautical terminology used in this chapter was obtained from an online Nautical Dictionary - I thouroughly recommend them for the nautically-ignorant! 


	3. Rosaline and Creaking leg Tom

Author's notes: Ooh - I'm loved! We're up to 10 reviews! *^-^* My thanks to jackfan2, once again rythmteck (thank you so much for the plug, m'dear - that really does mean alot to me), ElveNDestiNy (nice to hear from you again, and your poem was perfect - it made me cry!), Dark Lady2 (whose fic The 'Guidelines' of Jack Sparrow I thoroughly recommend), and of course, lulu bell (I'm flattered that Kate's one of your favourite characters!), who made my day by reviewing: thank you so much! Many muffins and rum to you, m'hearties! *grin* Now, we actually have the start of the plot beginning to unfurl in this chapter, so hopefully, you'll find it a bit more of a riveting read. I'll admit, I've left it on a bit of a cliff-hanger, but I'm hoping that with the events to come in chapter four, you'll find it in yourselves to forgive me *bottom lip trembles piteously*. Also, I would like to add that even though I would love to take credit for writing them, I am not a genius, and so therefore, do/did not have the skill nor, indeed, the time to invent the sea shanties featured in this chapter, which I in fact pulled off a sea shanty lyrics website - I am proud to say, however, that I have been doing my homework on this fic, and am keeping up my research on nauticle terms and ship-thing names. So, on with the story... 

Disclaimer: You know it, I know it: there are precious little things that I own in this world, but Pirates of the Caribbean nor Jack Sparrow are among them *sob* 

Chapter summary: Jack gets further in his hunts for answers, and partakes in a little story-telling session with one Creaking-leg Tom, a regular at the Singing Mermaid Inn. The crew of the Dark Horse, meanwhile, are beginning to notice their captain's peculiar manner, and Elizabeth finds her courage again when Will finally wakes... 

-~*~- 

The Keelhauled Sailor was doing a roaring trade that clear, Summer night, mostly due to the fact that Rosaline and the High-Knee girls were staging a performance. 

For some reason, the sight of bunched skirts pulled right up young ladies' thighs to expose stripy stockings, low-cut saloon-dresses, and energetic dances on tabletops and bars drew in customers by the horde, and since more customers always meant profits as high as the girls could kick, the tavern owners of Tortuga were always more than happy to welcome in Rosaline and her flock. 

Rosaline herself was a fairly short, nicely-rounded and well-endowed young woman in her early twenties, with curly black hair, green eyes and alot of affection to spare for men who had full purses. When she wasn't singing and dancing, she was invariably perched on a pirate's knee, working her charms (and their wallet) for all it was worth. 

"A sailor loves a gallant ship and shipmates bold and free, 

And ever welcomes with delight, Saturday night at sea. 

Saturday night at sea, me boys! Saturday night at sea! 

Let every gal and sailor sing Saturday night at sea!" 

The men hollered and whistled as Rosaline slalomed between the poles on the bar counter, singing her heart out as the whole tavern bellowed the chorus lines along with her. 

Swinging round the last pole, she leaned down to swipe a tankard of rum raised half way to a pirate's mouth, and throwing back her head, took the biggest swig she could manage. 

A roar of approval and applause went up all around her, and pouring the remaining contents of the stoup over the man's head, Rosaline swung her way back to the other end to the final bars of the shanty. 

"One hour each week was snatched from care as through the world we roam, 

To think of dear friends far away and all the joys of home. 

Saturday night at sea, me boys! Saturday night at sea! 

Let winds blow high or low we'll sing Saturday night at sea!" 

The clamour of stamping feet, fists banging on tables, cheering and general acclaim quite easily drowned out the sound of the tavern door opening; Jack Sparrow edged his way towards the nearest free seat - a large beer cask in a relatively unlit corner - and settled himself down as Rosaline took her fill of theatrical bows up on the bar. 

"Na', any o' you boys got requests fer me?" She asked, looking around the vicinity. 

"I got one for ya, goregous!" Came a drink-riddled voice from a far corner of the taproom. 

"Join the queue and wait in line wiv all the other gents, Miggs!" Rosaline called back, sending a ripple of laughter through her audience. 

"'Ow about The Ebenezer?" Someone else shouted. 

"Right you are!" Rosaline grinned. 

A steady rhythm of drumming tankards and boots pulsed into life as the pirates kept time, and taking a deep breath that swelled her bosom so tightly in her corset that one young scallywag at the fore nearly fell off his chair, she began: 

"I shipped on board of the Ebenezer, 

Every day you scrub and grease 'er, 

Send us aloft to scrape 'er down, 

And if we growl they knock us down. 

Oh get along boys, get along do! 

Be 'an-dy boys, be 'an-dy! 

Our firs' mate's name was Dickie Green, sir - 

The dir'iest man you ever seen, sir. 

Walkin' the quar'er wiv a bucko cap, 

'E fought 'imself no common chap! 

Oh get along boys, get along do! 

Be 'an-dy boys, be 'an-dy! 

We 'ad no spuds for our dinnah, 

As sure as I'm a livin' sinnah, 

Our bread was tuff as any brass..." 

"Our meat was as salt as 'is wife's arse!" Someone bawled, and everyone laughed. 

"Oh get along boys, get along do! 

Be 'an-dy boys, be 'an-dy!" 

"Oh get along boys, get along do! 

Be 'an-dy boys, be 'andy!" The barflies repeated, before errupting out into the umpteenth round of raucous cheering that evening. 

As Rosaline took her bows, and beamed around the taproom, her eyes widened suddenly as they fell on a pirate sitting in a shadowy corner on the far side of the tavern, his weatherbeaten, tricorn hat tipped down over his face as he rested back against the wall, sipping from his tankard. 

Much to the protesting and disappointment of her audience, Rosaline slipped down off the bar-top, and made her way through the drunken, brine-stinking crowd towards the man, a broad grin lighting her pretty features. 

"Wew, wew, wew, look what the catfish dragged in." She said as she stood over him, her hands resting on her ample hips. "Captain Jack Sparrah! Last I 'eard, you was bein' 'ung by them wew-tuh-doos in some Port or uvvah. Give 'em the Sparrah Slip, didja darlin'?" 

"Rosaline, luv." Jack purred, reaching out a sinewy, sun-bronzed hand to hook her into his lap. "Got a little ditty for your dear old Jack?" 

"'Course - when _don't_ I 'ave summin' for ya?" She asked, giving him a suggestive glance. Then she leaned forward and putting her lips by his ear, sang in a soft voice: "We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot - drink up, me hearties, yo ho! We kidnap and ravage, and don't give a hoot - drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" 

"Music to me ears, darlin'." Jack smiled as she gently kissed the spot below his ear, her raven-black curls pressing against his cheek. 

"I don't _just_ sing an' dance, y'know." She whispered. "Perhaps you'd like ta see wha' else I can do..." 

"I wish I could, luv." Jack sighed, leaning back so that he could look her in the face. "But right now I've a little bit of business to be takin' care of, savvy?" 

"Oh, wew." Rosaline shrugged. "Your loss, I suppose." 

"Any other time, though..." Jack assured her with a smirk, giving her a sharp smack on the rear. 

Rosaline screamed and giggled delightedly, before hopping off his lap to leave. 

Then she paused. 

"I don't suppose you could see your way clear ta offer a girl summin' ta drink?" She added hopefully, turning back to face him. 

Jack snorted. 

"As if you hadn't had this lot offering them to you left and right." 

"Rum always tastes be'er when its bought by men I like." She said sweetly. 

"Well, I say if that's the case, then why not?" Jack replied. 

Digging around in his coat pocket, he pulled out his purse and shook two dull-silver shillings out into his dirty palm. 

Rosaline's eyes were wide. 

"But..." 

"That should be enough." He interrupted her, taking hold of her wrist and tipping the coins into her hand. Then, tightening his grip a little, and fixing her olive eyes with his dark ones, he added. "Seafaring stories are very interesting, don't you agree luv?" 

Rosaline's eyes told him she understood. 

"Creaking-leg Tom." She said in a hoarse whisper, her cheeks rapidly gaining an under-pressure-glow. "The Singing Mermaid. Na' let go, Jack - yer scarin' me!" 

Jack gave her arm a sharp tug as she struggled against his hold, and his eyes narrowed menacingly. 

"What's his preference?" He pressed. 

"Mead." Rosaline hissed. "Na' fer the luvva God, lemme go!" 

Jack released the girl's wrist as she snatched it away, and watched her storm off into the reeling, drink-addled crowd. 

Indifferent, Jack glanced briefly in the direction of the door, and then tipped his head back to take another draught from his tankard; he only hoped Creaking-leg Tom would be up for a little storytelling tonight. 

-~*~- 

Elizabeth sat in the corner of her cell, staring at Will's motionless body - she was beginning to fear the worst. 

It had crossed her mind more than once that the dark-haired woman on deck might have shot him along with the Redcoats, but then why would they have thrown him in the brig? Surely they wouldn't have wasted their time imprisoning a dead body, and she couldn't see any blood stains on his shirt. 

And then the image of the dead soldiers spattered with their blood wrapped itself round her brain again, and Elizabeth buried her face in her knees with a dry sob. 

Why did _she_ have to be a Governor's daughter? Why couldn't it be some _other_ girl that kept getting kidnapped by pirates, and not her? But then, Elizabeth realised, she would never wish this on anyone; if only she could shake that image of the dead Redcoats from her thoughts. She had heard the awful heavy, sliding sound the corpses had made on the wooden deck when the crew had dragged them off the ship; she had looked up and seen the light seeping down between the planks eclipsed as they were pulled overhead. 

Elizabeth shivered, and hugged her knees tighter; she shouldn't have been there. She shouldn't have been there at all. 

-~*~- 

Ioade sighed, flexing her fingers about the handle of the ship's wheel as she looked out to the dark sea. 

They were making good headway, but they wouldn't reach Tortuga until the small hours, and to add to that the sky was overcast, so they were having to rely on a chart rather than the stars, which was losing them time. 

The captain sighed again, and ran her free hand through her thick, blonde mane of hair. 

"Bleak, don't you think?" 

Looking round, Ioade saw Kate standing a little way behind her, watching her through cat-like eyes. 

"Aye." She agreed. "We'd be makin' better time if it hadn't've been so cloudy. Have you checked on the hostages?" 

The dark-haired woman nodded. 

"The boy hasn't woken up yet, but -" 

"_He hasn't woken up yet?_" Ioade exclaimed, cutting across her first mate. "How hard did you hit him, Kate?!" 

Kate raised an eyebrow. 

"I haven't killed him, if that's what you mean." 

"I'll believe that when I see it." Ioade muttered. "Tell Marlin to drop the Sprit sails." 

"She's all in the wind, Captain." Kate pointed out. 

Ioade swung round to face her companion with a flat look. 

"Who's cap'n of this bloody ship - you or me?" 

Kate gazed back at her with a serene air that made Ioade positively itch with irritation. 

"Aye, miss." Her first mate said quietly, then faded away into a silhouette to speak to that of a man working on the port rail. 

"Can't get the bloody crew these days." The blonde captain murmured as she turned back to face afore. 

Marlin looked up from his splicing when he heard footsteps. Kate emerged into the halo of the port-side lantern, streaks of red and gold glittering in her tawny eyes. 

"Captain says to drop the Sprit sails." 

"But she's all in the wind." Marlin frowned. 

"I know." Said Kate. 

The West Indian pirate carefully set down the two half-joined lengths of rope and his marlinspike, and stood up, reaching nearly a head higher than the Dark Horse's first mate. 

"What's going on?" He asked after studying Kate's face for a moment (which was, as always, placid). 

The woman returned his study for a lengthy pause, as if judging whether she could trust him, and then spoke: 

"The Captain's been in a very strange humour of late - I don't pretend to know why." 

"She seems keen to reach Tortuga." Marlin noted in his Caribbean lilt. 

"Ah, well - not much rum left in the hold, you see." Kate said with a small smile. 

Marlin gave a quiet snort of laughter, and the dark-haired young woman glanced out at the night sea. 

"Drop the Sprit sails." She nodded to her shipmate after a moment of silence. 

"Aye." 

As Kate made to leave, she stopped suddenly, and turning back, she asked: 

"What's that smell?" 

Marlin looked at her. 

"Good God! Don't tell me you can't smell it, man - it reeks!" 

The dreadlocked pirate sniffed at the air. 

"Oh, that!" He said after a pause. "Khale's been eating raw meat again." 

"I'm going to have to have a word with that Cabin Boy of ours." Kate murmured quietly. "Sprit sails, Marlin." 

"Aye, ma'am." 

-~*~- 

When Will came to, he immediately wished he hadn't - it felt as though someone had fired a cannonball into the back of his skull. Prying open his disinclining eyes, he found himself in what was unmistakably the cheerful, welcoming confines of a ship's brig. A pirate ship's brig. Yes - he remembered now how he had got here; that woman in black must have rapped him over the head with a pistol-butt at some point. 

Will made a valiant effort to sit up and then quite quickly abandoned it with a loud groan as the pain at the back of his skull erupted suddenly, like a firework. 

"Will!" 

The startled cry rang in his ears afterwards like the screeching of splintering wood, but in that instant, his heart leapt to hear it. 

"Elizabeth!" 

Battling through the pain with gritted teeth, Will hauled himself upright and crawled to the divide between the cells, where Elizabeth, ashen-faced and clad only in her nightgown and dressing robe, sat waiting on the other side with a beautifully relieved smile lighting her features. 

The young blacksmith grabbed her hand in his, the both of them twining their fingers together as tightly as they could, not caring if they broke. 

"Oh, Will! Thank goodness you're awake - I thought you might be dead!" 

"Near enough." He smiled stoically. "Where are we?" 

"Out at sea." Said Elizabeth, her courage returning rapidly by the heartbeat. "Although you've probably already guessed that - this ship is the Dark Horse. I didn't get the captain's name, but she's a woman." 

"A woman?" Will repeated, raising his black eyebrows. He was surprised, but not entirely - after all, he _had_ met Anamaria - and found himself wondering if this pirate, by any chance, knew Jack. 

"How long have I been unconscious?" He asked. 

"Quite a while." Elizabeth answered seriously. "I'm not absolutely certain, but five or six hours, at least." 

"We're well out to sea, then." Will noted. 

Despite himself, he felt a great swell of shame inflating in his ribcage - Elizabeth had spent six hours alone, frightened and thinking him to be dead, and he hadn't even be able to offer her solace. 

"I'm so glad you're alright, Will." The young woman said quietly, squeezing his hand through the bars. "I'm glad you're here with me." 

Will smiled, and lifting their twined hands to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. 

"So am I." He nodded. 

-~*~- 

Compared to the Keelhauled Sailor, the Singing Mermaid was deserted; in fact, compared with _any_ tavern in Tortuga, it was deserted. 

The only occupants of the well-lit taproom were the landlord, who was behind the bar, polishing tankards with a rag; a drunkard snoozing in the corner, whose face appeared to be glued to the tabletop by the large pool of spit oozing from the corner of his slack mouth; a whore in a low-cut, red dress perched on a beer keg, and a white-haired old man with a wooden leg, sat at the bar. 

Jack glanced around cautiously, standing hipshot in the doorway. 

The tavern owner, without looking up from the tankard he was polishing, cleared his throat, twitched his bushy moustache and said: 

"You coming in, or what?" 

Jack grinned, his gold teeth catching in the candlelight. 

"Don't mind if I do, mate. A rum, if you do it." He added as he stepped over the threshold, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

"Don't be a fiddle block - everywhere in this port does rum." The man snorted gruffly, setting down the tankard and heading out of the room. 

"Don't s'pose you'd care for a bit of a frolic, would you sir?" The whore in the red dress asked in a bored voice. 

"Tempting, luv." Jack said with a pained expression. "But I'm a little busy at the moment. Thanks anyway." 

The tavern owner came bustling back in a moment later, and placing the mug of rum down on the wooden counter, asked a price of two pennies. 

"No wonder this place is quiet." Jack grumbled as he reached into his coat pocket for his purse. 

"Business and needs must." The publican grinned. "Mr..." 

"Captain." Jack corrected, pausing in his search to point a warning, black-smeared finger at the man. 

"My apologies, Captain." Came the reply. 

Jack took a very sudden liking to the tavern owner when he made no further inquiries as to the pirate's name, and so decided to allow himself to forgive the man for the obscene price of the rum as he made his way over to a table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down, put his boots up on the board, and tipped back his head to take a long swig of rum. 

"Now, then." Jack said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he lowered the mug. "Which of you fine gentlemen - this excludes you, luv." He nodded politely to the whore. "Is Creaking-leg Tom?" 

"I be Creaking-leg Tom, lad!" The white-haired man at the bar crowed, and hauling himself to his foot and peg, began a very slow, lopsided, lurching limp towards the pirate. 

Jack winced, as every time the gaffer took a step with his false limb, there was a horrible creak of thinly-covered bone grinding against wood. 

"Landlord!" Jack cried, tearing himself away from the hideous sound and banging the tabletop with the flat of his palm. "A mead for Master Tom!" 

"Ar, ye knows me well, lad." Creaking-leg cackled as he seated himself beside Jack. "But I knows a'nuthin' o' ye." 

"And things are always much less complicated if it stays that way, don't you agree?" Jack smiled charmingly. 

Creaking-leg gave another cackle, which turned into a fit of raucous hacks before he spoke again: 

"Cagey, be we, lad?" 

"Merely wise, good sir." Jack said, lowering his voice melodramatically. 

Creaking-leg nodded. Then, pausing as if something had just occurred to him, he reached down and wrapped his claw-like hand around the top of his wooden leg. 

With a sickening wrench, the old man suddenly, and quite without warning, twisted the limb right off, and turning it upside down, emptied what looked like a cloud of fine, white dust out of the cup. Jack felt he was going to be violently sick. 

"Bloody bones!" Creaking-leg growled, giving the wooden leg a few cursory bangs on the edge of the table. "This ol' thing's ne'er fitted me right!" 

Jack's hand was clutched protectively to his stomach as the old man jammed the false limb back onto the end of his knee, and twisted it firmly into place. 

"Now, then." He continued, turning to face Jack, who was staring at his wooden leg with horrified fascination. "I be a'feelin' a mighty strong thirst fer infermation about ye - what is it ye be wantin', lad?" 

"Sorry?" Jack asked in a rather tight voice, blinking his dark eyes back into focus and tearing his eyes from the leg. "Oh, right - you've been recommended to me as an oracle of yarns." 

"Which partic'lar yarn is it ye be wantin' t'hear?" 

"Anything that concerns the Palagian Chalice." Jack replied. "And the whereabouts of the corresponding map." 

Creaking-leg's watery eyes widened, and Jack smiled. 

"That be a strange request, an' no mistake." The old man said. "What be yer business wi' that, lad?" 

"Stories are told much faster without interruptions." Jack countered, staring pointedly at Creaking-leg from beneath half-lowered lids. "Savvy?" 

Creaking-leg raised his wire-haired eyebrows. 

"Aye. Well, 'tis an odd tale, t'be certain; I not be a'knowin' much about the map isself, 'cept that it were held by one Bootstrap Bill." 

Jack nodded. 

"Know 'im, do ye?" 

"Did." Jack corrected. "You were sayin'?" 

"Aye -well, from what I heerd, the map were rended clean in two to forever a'bury the location o' the treasure, if ye'll excuse the pun." He added with a chuckle. 

"Alls I be a'knowin', lad, is that one half were lost somewhere along the passin' o' time, while the other half ended up a'fallin' into the hands o' some pirate captain - descendant o' the infamous Henry Morgan, or so I heerd." 

Jack smoothed his moustache thoughtfully with a long finger. 

"That's very interesting..." He mused; his mind had alighted on the memory of an old acquaintance. 

"Anyway, as I was a'sayin', the map were lost, and with it, the location o' the treasure," Creaking-leg continued. "But the stories still be a'tellin' that the Chalice be hidden on an island far to the North. Surrounded by ice, it be, and guarded by all manner o' fearsome beasts; ye'd have to be cracked as a cook's pot to be goin' after it." 

"Oh, you've noticed, then." Jack said brightly. "Can you tell me anything more about the Chalice itself?" 

Creaking-leg narrowed his pale eyes. 

"They say the power o' the Heathen Sea Gods theirselves be bound to the Chalice." He growled in a low voice. "An' that whoever so holds the Chalice in their possession also be a'holdin' the power of the entire Ocean in the palm o' their hand." 

-~*~- 


	4. Ships through the spyglass

Author's notes: *Huffs exasperatedly* Well, _finally!_ Tried to upload this for three nights straight, and the stupid site wouldn't load! *scowl* Anyway, it's up now, so first of all, thanks oodles to Phoenix Flight, lulu bell, Trinity Day (I'm a little shaky on my dialogue tags, but I'll do my best to improve them for you *^-^*), rythmteck and my newest reader Ildera, whose fic 'A Silver Dubloon' is a _must_ read for all Jack fans - trust me, peeps, it rocks! Thanks to you guys for your support, your praise and your cc. Right, well - things are starting to happen in this chapter - the two plot lines finally collide, and you get to see alot more of Ioade in this one, as well as Kate's character developing a bit more (hopefully evolving further towards the non-mary-sue end of the spectrum); also, there's a few references in here to Kate's thing about redcoats, and a hint or two as to why she turned pirate, so assume what you will, but I promise the actual answers will come eventually. So, I suppose that's enough of my chapterly rant for now, so kick back with a nice ol' mug o' rum, get settled, and read...and of course, you'll want to click on that nice little blue button at the bottom of the page, too, once you've finished, won't you? _Won't_ you? 

Disclaimer: *sigh* It pains me to say this, never less than all the previous times I've had to, but I am not Yoda with a light sabre fighting Darth-thingamywhatsit-Sauroman-man-Christopher-Lee. Oh yeah, and I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, either. 

Chapter summary: Jack thinks over his encounter with Creaking-leg, and remembers an old acquaintance as notions start to formulate in his mind (careful there, Jack). Meanwhile, Kate finally manages to get Ioade to reveal the cause behind her recent strange manner, and so strikes a spark in her captain's thoughts that will lead the two lives of the Black Pearl and the Dark Horse crews to collide, what's more with Will and Elizabeth stuck in the middle... 

-~*~- 

Jack lay on his palette, staring up at the dark ceiling; he _hated_ being on land, on account of many things, but most of all because he could never sleep. 

His lack of rest, however, was providing him with time to think over the information he had gathered that evening: the meeting with Creaking-leg had certainly been worth bearing its deficits - Jack shuddered - and the detail of the old man's story had certainly been worth the immoral cost of two meads. 

Jack had, in fact, already known the legend behind the Chalice long before he'd heard it tonight, but it never did a man any harm to swing the lead twice when he was sailing shallow waters, and Creaking-leg had been a veritable trove of useful leads. 

Which brought Jack's mind back to that old acquaintance. 

He began to wonder, idly, just how many years it had been since he had last encountered her...five, maybe six? He hadn't really been counting. Her face was faint in his memory, the image fading with time like a handprint being washed from sand by the tide. Jack knew damn well it wouldn't be easy to persuade her to co-operate, for although her face was indistinct in his mind, her personality, and her ruthless terms were not. If indeed she _did_ have the other half of the map, she wouldn't be willing to bargain without a fight. 

The pirate shifted on his bed, a few of his hair ornaments giving out muted clinks, and he reached down by his hip in the darkness to find his hat. 

The corner of Jack's mouth hitched up in lopsided grin as he set the hat over his eyes, and settled a little further down into his palette - if there was ever a man capable of getting his own, wicked way with women, it was Captain Jack Sparrow. 

-~*~- 

The small boy appeared, grinning impishly, infront of the two occupied cages in the brig, a full pail of slopping bilge water hanging from each grimy hand. 

"Cap'n says t'give yeh a bath." He said brightly in his Irish lilt, setting down the buckets, and before either Will or Elizabeth had time to puzzle at his words, Grapple had picked one up, swung it back, and doused Elizabeth with a puckish giggle. 

The young woman shrieked in shock as the freezing water hit her like a hard slap, plastering her night-clothes to her skin, and dripping unpleasantly from her hair. 

Will started up, his eyes flashing, but was thwarted when he, too, was drenched with the contents of the other pail. 

"Don't ferget t'use the soap!" Grapple tittered, his dirt-smudged face brimming with amusement. 

"Get out of here, you louse!" Will roared, slamming his fist against the iron bars and making the young boy jump back, only to keel over giggling uncontrollably. 

"Yeh'll smell just like the rats, now." He gasped, looking up at the blacksmith with a face beetroot-red from laughing. 

"Shame." Will growled. "Does that mean we'll be attracting any more little diseases like you, then?" 

Grapple stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then collapsed back onto the floor in peals of howling mirth. 

-~*~- 

Ioade stirred at a knock on the door. 

"C'min." She murmured, looking back down at the chart infront of her. 

Her dark-haired first mate quietly stepped into the cabin, sending a sudden rush of sea air surging into the room, setting the candleflames aflutter. 

"We're in sight of Tortuga." Said Kate, shutting out the draft and crossing to the table. 

Ioade 'mmm'ed a response, seemingly intent on the map she was holding; when Kate looked at her eyes, however, she found them glazed over, and unmoving. 

The woman took a seat and stared unblinkingly at the blonde pirate. 

"What's wrong, Ioade?" She asked, addressing her captain in the familiar manner reserved for when they were alone. 

Ioade's grey eyes snapped up from the chart, just a little too quickly. 

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong'?" 

Something unidentifiable in Kate's stare intensified. 

"I'm not a fool, Ioade, so please don't take me for one." She requested evenly of the younger woman. "What's wrong?" 

When her captain made no reply, she continued: 

"You order Marlin to drop the sprit sails when the Horse is all in the wind, you glower at Grapple like you're going to eat him every time he finishes a task, you shut yourself away at mealtimes, you've been irascible, you've been petulant - even more so than usual, that is - and you've been absent-minded ever since we cast off from Port Royale." Kate leaned back in her chair, studying her companion with realisation softening her eyes. "It's got something to do with the boy, hasn't it?" 

Ioade threw her a look of undisguised stroppiness. 

"You're hatefully shrewd, Kate." She said tartly. 

Kate gave a small smile of satisfaction. 

"And when you say that, I'm also usually right." 

Ioade glared at her for a moment, and then kicking away from the table, sprung to her feet, and began prowling the cabin like a predatory cat. 

"S'just jogged a few things in my memory, that's all." She grumbled. 

Then, as if Kate had pressed her further, she suddenly threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly, and whipped round on her heel to face her first mate. 

"_Alright! Fine!_ The moment ye said 'e was the spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap, somethin' clicked - I don't be knowin' why!" Kate grinned at her friend lapsing into her sea-faring accent as her temper errupted. "And then! _Then_, I starts thinkin' about that bloody half-o'-map we been stowin' in me cabin all this time, and I says t'meself, I says: 'I've a mind to be goin' after that treasure', but I be needin' the other half to do that, don't I? So now, we be sailin' fer the bloody Tortoise, so's I can get on with findin' the other half o' that bloody map, and get a decent night's shuteye! _There_." Ioade slammed the chart she had been waving around erratically during her rant down on the table and glowered at Kate. "Happy now?!" 

"Very, thank you." Kate nodded, smiling. "Your good self?" 

Ioade opened her mouth indignantly, staring at the dark-haired woman, and then closed it again; open; close; open; close. Pout. 

"Get out of my cabin, and go do somethin' useful." She grumbled. 

Kate's smile widened as she stood up. 

"Aye, Captain." 

Reaching the door, she paused and turned back to the sulking Ioade. 

"Don't get _too_ drunk." She said innocently. 

"_GO!_" 

-~*~- 

Anamaria's thoughts wandered as she kept dog watch, having relieved Ketch some minutes ago. 

The Pearl rocked gently, the hull creaking, and the ropes swaying slightly in the wind, and in the background, the ever-present soundscape of Tortuga played on. 

The female pirate looked up suddenly as something caught her eye across the bay: a warm glow, rather like large firefly, drifting slowly along above the water, growing closer and clearer every heartbeat. 

Anamaria narrowed her dark eyes, peering at the light, and saw almost at once that it was another ship coming in to dock, firelight from the lanterns a-dance, and staining its white sails ruddy. 

She didn't know quite why, but Ana felt the sudden gut-urge to inspect the ship more closely, and calling for Cotton to bring her the telescope, maintained her gaze on it like a hawk watching a field mouse. 

A moment later, she took the spyglass from the mute pirate's hands, and set it to her eye; the figurehead of the vessel was that of a giant, rearing horse. 

Anamaria slammed the telescope shut. 

"Gibbs!" She yelled. 

-~*~- 

"It's the Black Pearl, ma'am." Marlin confirmed, closing the telescope and handing it back to Kate. 

The three of them - Ioade, Kate and Marlin - stood at the fore of the deck, gazing out at the ship silhouetted against glowing halos of Tortuga. 

Ioade was chewing her bottom lip pensively. 

"Barbossa?" Kate asked. 

Ioade cast her a testy look. 

"Have you _been_ in the Spanish Main for these past two years, Kate? Elgor Barbossa's _dead_! No..." Her grey eyes fell again on the Black Pearl. "Sparrow's captain, now - I wonder..." 

A look passed between the two women, and they silently agreed that it _was_ possible. 

"Kate," Ioade said at last. "Soon as we dock, I'll be wantin' ye to go ashore and search Tortuga from gripe t'guilded truck fer Cap'n Jack, savvy?" 

"Aye, ma'am." 

The vivacious light in Ioade's grey eyes came to keen points as her features swept into a dark smile. 

"Methinks that maybe 'tis time I did a little catching up with the good Mr Sparrow..." 

-~*~- 

Gibbs ambled his way between the top-heavy buildings of Tortuga's streets, his breath coming in short rasps; he'd known that Jack had been heading for the Keelhauled Sailor when he had left the Pearl, but when he'd arrived there, the stocky pirate had found neither hide nor hair of him. Almost. 

A pretty, black-haired wench had been sitting quietly in a corner, absent-mindedly weighing two silver shillings in her small hands, with the evident air of someone who had been rather badly shaken up; it didn't take the wit of a fox to discern why. 

And so Gibbs had been able to trace Jack's way to the Singing Mermaid, with the warning that Captain Ioade Morgan of the Dark Horse was mooring in the bay. 

The tavern happened to be a little way away from Tortuga's hub, which meant a bit of a walk, and so, making his way up a empty street, the iron-haired man nearly didn't acknowledge the sensation as he fought to keep his aching legs moving. Then, he felt it, and stopped, quite suddenly, standing rigid as stone in the middle of the dirt road: 

The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. 

Peering back over his shoulder, Gibbs bobbed his head, trying to penetrate the shadows cast in the alleyways. The only other thing alive in that wynd apart from him was a thin-looking tabby cat that yowled atop one of the bowed ridges, and then leapt across a wide gap between two roofs, to disappear from sight. 

The street, and Gibbs, were very still. 

He felt a shiver pass down his spine, and a slight cold sweat was sparkling on his brow; he couldn't be sure, but it hadn't been the first time that evening he'd felt that someone trailing him. 

Gibbs started to walk again, but this time he kept his fingers touching against the wooden grip and cold, iron trigger of his pistol. 

While his legs and lungs were tiring, his senses were awake and sharp, scanning for any trace of movement, sound or smell. 

He hadn't gone a few paces when he heard, quite distinctly, the sound of soft, running footsteps a way back behind him. 

An adrenaline-induced grin lit Gibbs' weather-beaten features, and ducking into the fade of light to shadow in an alleyway on his right, he waited against the rough wall of a house, his heart beating a violent tattoo in his throat. 

Again, after a few moments, he heard the quiet grind of boots on dust. Drawing his pistol slowly from his belt, he raised it to his chest as he retreated beyond the penumbra; the bugger was definitely following him. 

A long number of heartbeats passed as Gibbs stood in the dark, his finger pressing, ready to fire; but all he heard was silence. His blood began to rush in his ears as he strained his neck looking this way and that, trying to listen for even the faintest scuff. None came. 

Silence. 

His heartbeat seemed to echo like far-off cannon fire among the crooked structures of Tortuga. 

Silence. 

The sweat beaded freely on his skin, wetting his trembling grip on the pistol. 

Silence. 

He didn't dare move; none of his senses declared that anything living was walking that street, but something in his gut assured him otherwise. 

Silence. 

Then. So light and faint he could barely feel it. A cold sliver of blade-edge slithered by his neck, pressing against the underside of his sideburned jaw in such a way that he was forced to raise his chin. 

"If you so much as twitch a fingertip, you'll be on your way to Davy Jones' Locker before you can say savvy." 

"Sharp, lass." Gibbs observed, his adam's apple tight against his throat with nerves. "But I heard yer footsteps before ye even touched me wi' that effect o' yers." 

"The more fool, then," Said the voice. "That you didn't run." 

"Per'aps, but I be thinkin' that maybe we be two of a kind if that be the case - cats don't make a noise when they be huntin' mice, lass, and neither should ye." 

"You're taking a bit of a risk, don't you think?" Came the placid reply. "Turn around." 

The last two words weren't said threateningly, or angrily, nor indeed aggressively in any way. They were just said. Gibbs however, wasn't about to overlook the subtle hint of the blade touched against his neck, and wisely obliged without question. 

"Mr Gibbs." The speaker addressed him in a low, rich, female voice. "Before I lower my weapon, and put your nerves to rest, I would like you to know that I am not only covering your movements with an axe, but also with a pistol, and so methinks, therefore, you might find it in your interests to be co-operative, savvy?" 

"Aye." Gibbs replied slowly, peering into the darkness in the direction of the speaker - that voice rang familiar in his memory, yet something was missing that he couldn't quite put his finger on. 

"Miss D'Lazzio?" He said after a long pause. 

"Cole." The woman corrected. "It's been twelve years since we last met, Mr Gibbs, and alot can change in that time, but yes - 'tis me." 

And with that, Gibbs _did_ put his finger on it - the flowing Italian accent had been replaced by a more reserved English one. 

"What business 'ave ye in a place like this, missy?" Gibbs asked, suddenly feeling a world easier. "You be a high-born lass - this ain't no place fer yer sort, and I don't be pretendin' to know how ye got 'ere." 

"Well, since you enquire, Mr Gibbs, I've turned pirate." Came the mildly amused reply. "Surely you've heard of 'the Blackbird'?" "Aye." Gibbs said, staring even harder into the darkness. "Then it be _ye_, Miss Kate?" 

"Aye; first mate aboard the Dark Horse is what I am nowadays." 

A long silence. 

"And are you still in the service of the good King's Navy? On seconds thoughts, a rather foolish question, considering where we are." She said as an afterthought. 

"No, lass." Gibbs said in his gruff voice. "I be servin' under the command o' Cap'n Jack Sparrow o' the Black Pearl." 

"Oh?" Came that smooth, calm voice, like dark honey and yoghurt. "Then we couldn't possibly have picked a better time to meet, because, you see, _my _captain is rather craving a word with _your_ captain, and hence, sent me ashore to search the highs and lows of Tortuga for the good Mr Sparrow; as you might have assessed by now, I've not had any luck thus far." Kate paused contemplatively. "Tell me, Master Gibbs, have you the time and the goodness in your heart to save me a night's work and take me to him? I assume that's where you were headed when I waylaid you." She added. 

"Ye've already labelled me a fool once this eveing, lass, and it be folly in itself for a man to be labelled 'fool' twice - what be yer cap'n's business wi' Jack?" Gibbs asked suspiciously. 

Kate thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. 

"From what I remember, all pirates - captains especially - are rather fond of treasure maps, am I correct?" 

It was as though someone had struck a flint in Gibbs' mind: she knew. 

"Aye." He agreed. "But 'ow do I know it's not in yer head to be double-crossin' me n' Jack?" 

"You don't." Kate answered evenly. "You'll just have to trust me. Shall we proceed?" 

-~*~- 

Elizabeth felt her heart give an involuntary jolt as she saw the figure stomp sullenly down the wooden steps into the brig, a bottle of rum in their hand. The moonlight and firelight from above deck shone down through the hatch, illuminating the pirate's long, thick, bushy mane of hair, and there was a faint jingling that sounded reminiscently like braid-beads and coins. 

Elizabeth hardly dared to believe it. 

The figure raised the bottle of rum to its lips, and tipping its head back, took a long swig. 

"J-Jack?" Elizabeth asked in a dry voice. 

The pirate looked around, as if to see who was being addressed, and when they saw no one else was there, gave out a bark of laughter. 

"Sorry to disappoint ye, missy, but if ye was expectin' Cap'n Jack Sparrow..." She sighed. "I'd give a good deal to know where he is meself; s'why I've sent me first mate out on a wild goose chase." 

"Your first mate." Will said, sitting up. "The one who shot the redcoats?" 

"Ah, well." Ioade said in a much kinder tone. "Ye'll have to turn a bit of a blind eye, there - redcoats are a bit of a sore spot with our Kate." 

"Turn a blind eye? That woman killed five men in cold blood!" Elizabeth exclaimed angrily. 

"It's like I _said_ - they're a bit of a sore spot with her." Ioade replied, gesturing with her rum bottle. "Anyway, might I enquire as to your names, good gent and lady?" 

"Joseph and Emiline Brown." Will said at once, the names of his former master and his wife leaping into his mind. 

Ioade gave him a flat look. 

"Aye, and I'm Mary, Queen of Scots." She drawled. "Don't play name games with me, lad - you're old Boots's boy. As if no one'd ever told ye ye looks jus' like 'im." She added with a chuckle, lapsing back into her seafaring patois as she took another draught of rum. 

"And that must make you Elizabeth." She said then, looking over at the damp young woman in the cage next to Will. "Word travels fast on the sea; Barbossa's death and Jack's victory are no secret, y'know. I suppose that's how ye be knowin' Master Sparrow, is it?" 

"Yes." Will answered truthfully; he didn't much see the point in lying to a shrewd pirate. 

"Figured as much." Ioade said, raising her eyebrows. "Trouble, that's what that man is: can't seem to get enough of it. The last time his name reached my ears was with the news that he was to be hanged in Port Royale." 

Ioade's eyes went wide, as if something had suddenly occurred to her, and turning to Will, she said in a panicked voice:  
"They didn't, did they?" 

"No." The blacksmith smiled, remembering Jack's inspired means of escape. 

The blonde pirate relaxed. 

"It's not that I'm bothered about _him_," She explained with a dismissive wave of her hand, and another sip of rum. "But he has something that I'm rather interested in acquiring. _If_ he has it...knowing that sot, he's probably lost it by now." She added darkly. 

"What is this thing you're so desperate to get?" Will asked quietly. "And if you're so eager to engage in _that_ business, then why are you keeping _us_ here? We serve no purpose in your affairs." 

"Insurance, Bootling." Said Ioade, inspecting her rum bottle, and choosing to ignore Will's reaction to the sobriquet. "If all falls through here, you and your little sweetling there will bring in quite a fine ransom, I'm sure. And there is a _slight_ ladder in the stocking of your reasoning, oh son-of-Bootstrap - you _do_ serve a purpose in my affairs, funnily enough." 

"What do you want him for?" Elizabeth asked quickly, remembering with a twinge similar words that had passed between her and Barbossa. 

"Well, you see, the last person to possess this particular object of my fancy happened to be your father, William." 

Will leaned forward, listening raptly with his brown eyes fixed on the captain. 

There was a long silence. 

"And?" Will prompted. 

Ioade frowned. 

"I don't know - that's all I've come up with, so far; it's much more exciting than me saying we're just tagging you along for the ride because I'm a bit skint, though, isn't it?" She smiled. 

"You mean you were lying?" Will demanded, his voice rising. 

Ioade closed her eyes and raised a hand. 

"Ah, now I never said that, Bootling. Well...maybe I _did_," She gestured carelessly. "But that's not the point...I..._Look!_ Just stop asking me questions, savvy?" She finished irritably. "Fiddle blocks - no peace for the bloody wicked, is there?" 

"Pirates _are_ wicked." Elizabeth pointed out smugly. 

Ioade looked at her. 

"Your point being?" 

-~*~- 

Kate smiled to herself as she climbed the wooden staircase behind Gibbs: it really was marvellous how understanding people became when you brandished an axe at them. 

Gibbs, however, was rather less at ease than the young woman. While he appreciated that Kate had done everything in her power to fulfil the image of 'pirate' down in the taproom, he couldn't help but find it a little disturbing that what she had actually managed to achieve was the appearance of a homicidal maniac. 

When he had noticed the absence of the pistol she had claimed to have been covering him with, Gibbs had enquired into this inconsistency, and then immediately wished he hadn't when she flipped the axe over in her hands to display a glittering silver hammer, trigger and barrel built into the shaft of the weapon. 

"It's such a wonderful time-saver." She had smiled in her unnervingly placid way, cradling it fondly. "You can shoot and mangle all at once." 

Gibbs couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of sympathy for the tavern owner, who had no doubt passed out on the floor after they had left the room. 

"Third on the left, did he say, Mr Gibbs?" 

Kate's quiet voice from behind him shook Gibbs from his reverie. 

"Aye, lass." He confirmed gruffly. "That'll be the one." 

A few paces later, they were standing in the hallway; Kate tapped her knuckled lightly on the wood, and waited. 

No reply. She tried again: 

"Mr Sparrow?" 

Her inquiry was answered this time, by a long, loud, rumbling snore - the sort of snore one makes when one has become exceedingly drunk prior to sleeping - and on trying the handle, she found the door to be locked. 

"Well, Mr Gibbs," Kate smiled pleasantly, turning to the stocky pirate. "It would appear that your captain isn't _quite_ as daft as he looks! This does unfortunately, however, leave me with only one option." 

Taking a step back, and signalling for Gibbs to do the same, Kate, in one smooth motion, levelled her axe, sighted along the shaft to aim at the door mechanism, and pulled the trigger. 

With an ear shattering crack the barrel fired, and the door flew open on its hinges, wheeling out of sight into the dark room for an instant, and then ricocheting back out again, smoke streaming in furling billows from the keyhole. 

"Shall we?" Kate smiled. 

-~*~- 

When the door opened like a cannon going off, Jack promptly tumbled from his cot, legs and arms flailing, to land heavily on the floor in a tangle of sheets. 

"Whyistherumgone?!" He blurted, fumbling out his pistol and pointing it grip-first at the intruders standing in the smoking doorway. 

"Oh, _do_ grow up, Mr Sparrow." Came a rich female voice from somewhere above his head. 

"Captain. _Cap_tain. It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!" He corrected exasperatedly. "If you're going t'kill me, at leas' get me bloody prefix right!" 

"I'm hoping you're going to be co-operative enough not to force me to resort to that sort of extremity." Came the mild reply. 

Jack groaned, and put a nursing hand to his aching head. 

"Fer Godssake, lass, 's'too bloody late t'be uzin' werds wi' that menny syll'bles." He slurred. 

"Just out of interest, Mr -" 

"Captain." 

"- Sparrow, were you planning to sit there on the floor _all_ night?"  
Jack raised his bleary eyes to see a slender hand being offered out to help him up. 

Taking it, he swayed unsteadily to his feet, and blinked, frowning, at the dark-haired woman standing before him. 

"No..." He exclaimed suddenly, peering closer at her face with the manner of an extremely short-sighted man. "Can't be...blimey! Kate, luv, 'zat you?" 

In the light cast from the hallway, Jack could just about make out Kate's features: she was very much as he remembered her, and yet not. She was approximately half a head shorter than Jack (which didn't really account for anything, seeing as Jack was fairly tall), and she wore all black, including her shirt, breeches, tunic, frock coat, waist-sash, belt and boots. 

Of course, she was not seventeen anymore, as he remembered her, but now appeared to be somewhere between the years of twenty eight and thirty, the time elapsed having given her womanly attributes time to ripen, Jack noted approvingly. She was still dark, however, with those elegant, sweeping, soot-rimmed dark eyes, and long, thick, silky waves of mahogany-coloured hair. Her heart-shaped face had hollowed a little in the cheeks, though, had lost the full freshness of a young girl, and the passive expression she bore seemed drained of a fire that Jack recalled from their first, and last, encounter. 

"Aye." Kate said with a small smile. "'Tis me." 

"You've turned pirate!" Jack hiccoughed in an almost accusing tone. 

"Circumstances...converted me, shall we say." 

"Well," Slurred Jack, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a grin as he looked her up and down appraisingly. "The scenic spots have certainly blossomed..." 

"_You_ may be drunk, Captain, but I am sober, and you might remember, even in your present lethargic state, that I don't tolerate that sort of outright flirtation." 

Jack raised his eyebrows, and shrugged. 

"Subtlety's never been one-uh my strong points, luv. Anyway," He took Kate's hand, managing to make the most of an unstable bow with a flourish, and kissed it. "T'what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Well, I think Gibbs might like to tell you that." Said Kate, moving aside to allow Jack's first mate to step forward. "Goodness knows he deserves it, after bringing me all the way up here." 

The stocky, wire-sideburned pirate approached his captain, casting a slightly distrusting look in Kate's direction. 

"It's the Dark Horse, sir - she's docked in Tortuga." He told Jack, whose eyebrows had disappeared up beneath his bandana. "It seems Cap'n Ioade is wantin' a word with ye." 

-~*~- 


	5. A crossing of wits

Author's notes: *does a little victory dance* _Aaaaaand_ we're up to 22 reviews on just 4 chapters, people! That's perdy good going, by my count! Thanks kaboodles to lulu bell (Ioda?...Is that a relative of Yoda's? Her name's _Ioade_, m'luv! And yes, good help's incredibly hard to come by these days, isn't it? Especially when you're dealing with pirates...*idly tosses maths homework book backwards over shoulder to bop a sleeping Jack Sparrow on the head, who wakes up with a ridiculously comical start*), rythmteck (sorry I haven't been able to review you're story recently, m'dear - I've been swept away in a tidal wave of coursework! *jerks thumb at large dam constructed across her bedroom door* but it's coming along wonderfully, as usual, and in a minute, I shall be checking back for another update! Luv ya! *^-^* xxx), Ildera - she's lent me Jack Sparrow, ladies and gentlemen! *glances back over at corner where Jack has gone back to snoring* and a fat lot of use he is...(luv you too, m'dear, and as soon as my Dad gets me email server fixed *grrrrr* I shall be sending you so many emails you'll be sick of 'em! Mwah, darling, mwah! My love to Will, and to Jack, when he gets back to you for your reviews, by the way - he kinda fell asleep on me, but he'll be awake next time!), and last but by no means least, ElveNDestiNy (yeah, that was intentional *grin* I take Spanish, too, for my GCSEs - great language...sacapuntas...hee...). So, anyway, we're actually all in the wind plotwise this chapter, so check out the lil' chapter summary down thar fer a round up! And don't forget to click the blue button on your way out... 

Disclaimer: Ioade: She doesn't own this, savvy? Now gimme rum! 

Ariandir: *withering look* _Thaaanks_, darling - you're _almost_ as nice as Jack. 

Jack: *jerks awake* S'm'one say m'name? 

Ariandir: *sigh* Can anyone help me? Please? Anyone? 

Chapter summary: Kate takes Jack to Ioade aboard the Dark Horse, where the two captains engage in a war of bargaining, but moreover, of wits. When Ioade and Jack exchange halves of the map to ensure authenticity, Ioade employs a cunning scheme to con what she needs out of Jack, and at the same time, rid herself of the vitality of his help. An incensed and ridiculed Captain Jack Sparrow is then 'escorted' from the ship and back to his own, but his thirst for revenge will see that by the next morning, Ioade will have no chance of sailing off into the sunrise... 

-~*~- 

Kate closed her eyes and prayed for patience as she heard a muffled thud behind her. 

"Mr Sparrow..." 

"Captain." 

"I'm sorry," She turned to face him, smiling beatifically. "Is it me, or do you seem to be having some difficulty in controlling your legs?" 

Jack was sitting sprawled on the dusty floor of the alleyway, gazing up at her, with one arm draped rather limply over a barrel next to him that he had attempted to use to steady himself; this wasn't the first time he had done this since they had left the Singing Mermaid. 

"You're drunk, Captain." Kate informed the pirate, pursing her lips. 

Jack frowned, and then raised his eyebrows at her. 

"Only a _little_, luv." 

"Then you don't hold your alcohol nearly as well as I had approximated." She replied quietly, holding a hand to help him up, and almost falling over herself under the drag of his dead weight. 

"Do you think...you could possibly...lean on Master Gibbs...for the rest of the way?" She said in a strained voice as she heaved Jack to his feet. "Or at least something like that, because I have a looming notion that having your limbs collapse out from under you every few minutes isn't going to get us back to the ship very fast."  
"Kate, darlin', what on earth is wrong with talking the same way as everyone else?" Jack groaned. "It would make you a hell of a lot easier t'understand." 

"For a drunk man, perhaps; it's one of my more endearing traits, Captain." Kate smiled. 

"Oh, I could probably name a few more..." Jack said in a low, rough voice, and sauntered forward to slip an arm round her waist with a smirk. 

"Mr Sparrow, a man who baits sharks will one day find himself lacking an arm." 

"What?" 

"It means kindly disentangle yourself from me, or you will be treated to rather a closer inspection of my axe than I think you would find comfortable." 

"Ah...I didn't _quite_ follow the entirety of that, luv, but I think I get the general gist." Jack said, backing away and eyeing the large weapon in her hand warily. 

"I'm so happy for you." Kate said with a benign smile. 

Putting an arm about Gibb's broad shoulders for support, Jack watched the woman with narrowed eyes as she turned and walked on ahead of them, her dark hair shining in the occasional shafts of candle and torch light that intermittently penetrated the alleyway. 

"Just out of curiosity, luv," Jack said eventually, to her back. "Why _did_ you turn pirate?" 

"Hmmm? Oh...something about a short drop and sudden stop - that's what they say, isn't it?" She answered negligently with a careless gesture of her hand. 

The two men behind her, however, could only stand and stare at her, and then each other, as she continued on along the alley, not once turning back, nor faltering in her step. 

-~*~- 

Because Ioade had managed to convince herself almost totally that Kate would return empty-handed to the ship, and that Jack Sparrow and the other half of the map would never be found, the irascible, tousle-haired captain nearly fell off her chair in shock when someone knocked on the cabin door. 

"C'min!" She called, grabbing hold of the edge of the table to steady herself in her seat. 

As her first mate pushed open the door, and stepped in followed by a stocky, side-burned pirate and Jack Sparrow himself, Ioade had to resist the strong urge to fall off her chair again. 

"Kate!" She exclaimed, gaping at the dark-haired women. "Tell me, how do you feel about a pay rise?" 

"If only it worked that way, ma'am." Kate sighed. "Is there anything else you'll be requiring for the time being, apart from elusive pirate captains and rum?" 

"Privacy, perhaps, m'dear." Ioade smiled wryly, leaning back on her chair and putting her boots up on the table. "But send Grapple in, and put Khale outside the door." She added as an afterthought. 

"Aye, aye." Kate nodded, and motioning for Gibbs to follow her, left the cabin and closed the door behind them. 

The two pirate captains gazed at each other in silence for a long while, smouldering, smoky eyes locked with sparkling, dark brown ones. 

"Well, Jack, it's been a while." Ioade said eventually, running the length of an index finger along her lips as she considered him. 

"I did keep meaning to write." Jack assured her in the sweetest manner he could muster. 

"Meaning to write, my foot!" The blonde young woman snorted. "Don't play angelic with me, Sparrow - it's _most_ unbecoming of you." 

"That's...uh..._Captain_ Sparrow, luv." Jack pointed out, as though Ioade had been searching for something, and he had spotted it lying out in a completely obvious place. 

Ioade held him with her grey eyes, which now burnt with a dangerous edge. 

"I wouldn't underestimate your intelligence _quite_ so much as to assume that you didn't know why I had Kate bring you here." She said, her tone suddenly businesslike. "In which case, _Captain_ Sparrow, I suggest that we get down to affairs and stop larking about, savvy?" 

"Would I be correct in guessing that this has something to do with a certain map?" Jack asked as he drew out a chair at the table and seated himself, keeping his eyes always on his unpredictable sparring partner. 

"Funnily enough, it _does_." Ioade smiled, leaning forward towards him. "I'm interested in acquiring your half." 

"Now, that_ is_ funny." Jack said, feigning surprise. "Because I'm interesting in acquiring _your_ half." 

"But, you see the problem there, Jack," Ioade said. "Is that then we'd be right back where we started: with one half each." 

"Sounds like a bit of co-operation to me." Jack concluded, picking out a banana from the bowl of fruit in the centre of the table, and reclining in his chair as he began to peal it. 

He wasn't so thick as to refuse to into enter this bargaining with Ioade, and question what profit was in it for him - the stakes were equal on both parties. However, having known Ioade for as long as he had, and also having observed that people, in general, didn't really change much no matter how many years passed, he knew that baiting the female hotspur would give him the upper hand in the dealing. He was also aware, of course, that Ioade would _never_ agree to co-operate with him, but it was worth trying just to see how incensed he could get her. 

Ioade stared at him. 

"Do I look that stupid?" She asked slowly. 

"Now, do you want me to answer that question, or was it rhetorical?" Jack said, glancing up at her over his banana.  
Ioade slammed her fist down on the table, and her jaw tightened. 

"Stop playing, Sparrow!" She growled. "You know quite well I'm talking about _buying_ it from you!" 

"Oh, now you _are_ being stupid, luv." Jack observed. "Do you really think I'd trade all that wealth and power for anything you have to offer me? I mean, I know you're attractive and all, but..." He trailed off with a helpless shrug. 

Ioade opened her mouth to reply (or rather, to maul him) when the cabin door opened, and a dirt-smeared urchin of about twelve years old sidled in, clutching two comparatively large bottles of rum in his arms, and, curiously, a sheet of blank parchment and a stick of charcoal. 

"Miss Kate said yeh be wantin' some rum, Cap'n." The boy said in a breathy, lilting Irish accent, kicking the door shut and scampering across to the table with the manner of a small, energetic rodent. 

"Aye." Ioade nodded, sounding somewhat relieved. "Good lad, Grapple. Give us that rum, and then go and sit in the corner over there, will ye?" 

Relieving the young boy of the bottles (he did keep hold of his parchment and charcoal stick, however), Ioade then slid one across the table to Jack, keeping one for herself. 

Jack hesitated for a moment after uncorking the bottle, and then brought it to his nose to delicately sniff at the contents. 

Ioade regarded him quizzically as she lowered her vessel from taking a swig. 

"I'm just checking you haven't poisoned it." Jack informed her, still intent on his inspection. 

"Don't flatter yourself, mate; I wouldn't go to _that_ much trouble. I'd just get Kate to shoot you...although...I _am_ sort of regretting not having thought of that, now..." Ioade added ruefully. 

"I take it you're keeping that pack rat in here for a reason, darlin'." Jack said, eyeing Grapple with a certain amount of suspicion as the boy grinned cheekily, and tugged his wild forelock at the pirate. 

"Well, if we didn't have him in the cabin every so often, there wouldn't be much point in calling him the cabin boy, would there?" Ioade smiled, as if humouring a littleun'. "We'd have to call him the deck boy, or the rigging boy, or the poop boy..." 

"Yes, thanks, Ioade." Jack nodded with a falsely pleasant smile. "I think I get the idea." 

"Oh, _good_." The blonde young woman sighed happily, taking another draught of rum. "Now, like any prospective buyer-" 

"Haven't we discussed that option, luv?" Jack interrupted. "I believe we ruled it out." 

"No, _you_ ruled it out, Captain. I acquiesced to do nothing of the sort." Ioade replied. "As I was saying, I would like to see the goods in front of me, just to make sure that I'm not being cheated in any way, so if you would kindly show me your half of the map, please." 

"Two things, luv." Jack said, holding up a hand. "Firstly, I'll only show you my half if you show me yours - just for fairness' sake, you understand - and secondly, how do you know that I even happen to have it on my person?" 

The swarthy pirate narrowed his eyes as he asked the question, in his usual, melodramatic way. 

Ioade smiled benignly. 

"Because your first request is the answer to your second." She answered. "Map, please." 

Reluctantly, Jack removed the ancient section of chart from one of his frock coat pockets, and handed it to Ioade as she drew out, and handed him hers. 

The pirate felt his heart flutter as he took the map and let his eyes travel over its ink-scarred face. 

The capricious lines that indicated the coasts of Britain, Ireland, Iceland, Norway and even Greenland danced about the edges of the Atlantic Ocean, as though a spider had dipped one of its legs in black ink, and then trailed it this way and that over the surface of the parchment. 

A thin, dotted curve showed the border of the Arctic Circle, and just beyond that curve, off the jagged coast of Greenland, was a tiny speck of land - hardly more than if the scribe's hand had twitched and accidentally spattered some ink - marked with a small, curling 'x'. 

"The Chalice..." Jack whispered hoarsely, running a trembling thumb lightly over the island. 

Across the table, Ioade's countenance near mirrored Jack's; the sensation that stirred in her was one of something heavy being lifted from her torso, elating her - something could now be done. 

But Ioade, like any good pirate in her opinion, kept her wits shrouded closely about her at all times, and firmly shaking herself back to the mortal world, she glanced up over the top of the half-map at Jack; he was still wholly absorbed in staring at the parchment, like he would a woman's chest. 

Ioade smirked slightly, though her heart was now beating a violent tattoo against her ribs, and shifting a little lower in her chair, she casually lifted Jack's half of the map up to face-level, so that it could quite easily be seen over her shoulder. 

Almost immediately, she heard the sound of charcoal on parchment, and her smirk became a full smile, concealed from her company by the map. 

"Well?" Came Sparrow's voice from the other side of the table (he had apparently woken from his reverie). "Is it to your satisfaction, missy?" 

"It's getting there, Captain." Ioade replied curtly, keeping the chart up in front of her face. "My half of the map is simpler than yours, and has hence taken you less time to inspect." 

"How's that?" 

"It's only _got_ the location on it." Ioade replied through gritted teeth, her characteristically short fuse re-lighting for an instant. 

A clench of panic grew in her stomach as she made some show of scrutinising a bight on Jack's half of the map - she desperately needed an excuse to keep the chart where it was for as long as possible. 

Looking away for a moment, she feigned a wide yawn and a stretch, raising the map up in the air, still facing back over her shoulder. 

One of Jack's eyebrows rose. 

"Keeping you up, am I?" He asked. 

"Oh, no, Jack!" Ioade said in a theatrically yawn-thick voice. "Just had one too many late nights, you know..." 

The rushing sound of charcoal on parchment quickened, and the blonde-haired young woman made a mental note to give Grapple more credit for his wit in the future. 

Jack watched the captain with his kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed suspiciously, as she give a second yawn that looked as though it might have unhinged her jaw; the fact that she was up to something was so obvious, it was stupid. 

"I'll be wantin' my half of the map back now, if you please." He said, a definite warning in his tone. 

Ioade felt as though someone were unravelling her guts like a ball of wool, when quite suddenly, a quiet yet distinct little cough came from the corner behind her. 

Ioade smiled, and lowered the map. 

"Of course, Mr Sparrow." She obliged sweetly, indulging herself at his expense one last time as she handed the parchment back across the table. "But I'm rather afraid that I've wasted your time here, for I fear I shall have to decline your offer." 

Jack frowned; this did not sound promising in his favour. 

"What offer, luv?" He asked cautiously. 

"The one of your allegiance." Ioade said brightly. "After much consideration, I don't think I'll need you, or your half of the map after all." 

Jack snorted at this ridiculous observation. 

"Of course you need me n' the map, darlin' - how else are you going to find the Chalice?" 

Ioade smiled at him in a way that Jack didn't exactly like. 

"Grapple." She called, without shifting her gaze or her smile, and the ragged little urchin of a Cabin Boy came forward, grinning from ear to ear as he handed his captain a sheet of parchment. Jack's brain told him that someone had just dropped a cannon ball in the pit of his stomach. 

Ioade inspected the freshly drawn chart with a satisfied expression, and then showed it to Jack, waving it in her hand. 

"A perfect copy, don't you agree?" 

Flapping before the dark pirate's face was an exact replica of his half of the map, drawn in thin, sweeping and wriggling lines of charcoal. The lad had even thought to colour in the compass embellishments, Jack noted bitterly. 

"Well, I'd say our business here is pretty much finished, don't you think?" Ioade said, clapping her hands together and whipping the copied chart-half out of sight. 

She began to rise from the table, but froze when she heard the click of a pistol being cocked. 

"Don't even consider it, Sparrow." She warned, not even lifting her bowed head. "I can have Khale here in two heartbeats." 

"I can have you dead it one." Jack said in a low voice. 

"You've slowed up since we last met, Captain." Ioade continued, seemingly unruffled. "The Jack Sparrow I knew would've known better than to've bargained under these conditions. Are you getting softer? Or are you just more foolish?" 

The pistol went off in a flash of fire and billowing grey. A blackened, smoking crater appeared in the opposite wall. 

"Oh, and perhaps I failed to point out that your aim seems to be going a little bit, too." Ioade remarked. 

"That wasn't _meant_ to hit you." Jack growled angrily. He drew a second pistol from his belt, and cocked it. "But this one _will_." 

Ioade looked up at him slowly. 

"Don't think you'll get the chance, mate." She grinned. 

The door of the cabin suddenly flew off its hinges with a sound to rival the shot of Jack's pistol, and the captain just had time to register the towering mountain of man and shining muscle on the threshold before a huge, heavy hand landed itself atop his crown. 

Khale lifted Jack out of his seat by his head as if he were no more than a child's doll. 

"Khale, Mr Sparrow has outstayed his welcome." Ioade informed the brute calmly. "Please show him the way out." 

The hulking animal turned, and with a pirate dangling from one hand, and a chunk of raw meat dripping blood in the other, he lumbered out onto the deck. 

A few moments later, there was colossal 'sploosh', and Grapple grinned up at Ioade. 

"D'yeh think he's wet, Cap'n?" 

Ioade looked back with wide-eyed innocence. 

"Wet? Goodness me - imagine that." 

-~*~- 

Anamaria watched the fuming Jack Sparrow board the Black Pearl, every inch of the near six foot from boot-toe to hat-crown dripping with sea water. 

"Events taken a bit of a damp turn, Captain Sparrow?" She asked, just managing to keep a straight face. 

"_Don't_..." Jack pointed a finger at her, and swayed absurdly on the spot for a moment as he fought to keep himself from bursting. "Get me some rum!" He snapped finally, storming off across the deck. 

"I take _that_ to mean he didn't find what he was looking for." Anamaria said quietly to Gibbs, who joined her just as Jack slammed his cabin door shut behind him. 

Gibbs laughed. 

"Now _there's_ a twist of irony, lass." He chuckled gruffly. "As a matter o' fact, he _did_." 

"He has a funny way of showing it." The black woman observed, as the cabin door was flung open again, and an irate Jack bellowed across the deck: 

"_Where's that bloody rum?!_" 

His eyes alighted on his first mate and sole female crew member. There was a dangerous glint in their dark depths. 

"Gibbs, get a looting crew together!" He barked. "I want them up on deck ready to leave before you can say 'savvy'!" He went to shut the door again, hesitated, and then added in a calmer, colder tone: 

"There's gunpowder aboard the Dark Horse, Gibbs - use it." 

Gibbs stared at his captain. 

"What's in your head, sir?" He asked. 

"Revenge." Jack replied, and withdrew behind the door again. 

-~*~- 

It was past midnight. 

Tortuga was bathed in darkness, and the roaring jollity and trade of the younger hours had slowed to a trickle, as does the flow of rum from a keg tap when the valve is part-way closed. 

The port, at this time, though far from being silent, was fairly so when compared with the clamour of the days and the evenings, and now, all that could be heard was the keening of seagulls, the breath of the sea, distant music, and the occasional hysterical giggling of a pirate with more alcohol in him that blood. 

Then, with a sudden roar like a stung lion, and a blast of billowing fire, amber light, and burning air, Tortuga was, for a single heartbeat, alive with all its earlier qualities. 

Set a good number of streets back from the port, in a bed, in a room, on the second floor of the Faithful Bride, Ioade Morgan woke with a start. 

The crude panes of the window above her cot were glinting with reflected firelight, and judging by the few leaves that whipped past outside, sending shadows rolling over the bedclothes, it had been some powerful explosion. 

Ioade shoved off the sheets, and knelt up on her knees, shielding her eyes against the glare with one hand as she looked down to the harbour. 

She could dimly make out the blazing skeleton of a ship, sinking into the water, and then, for one, brief moment in time, something extraordinary happened: 

The figurehead of the Dark Horse had been split away by the blast, and was now bobbing upright a little way off from the carnage. 

A tiny spark from the burning corpse of the vessel sprang through the air like a dart, to alight between the horse's flattened ears. 

Fire ripped down the wild, flowing mane in an instant, tugging and snapping in the wind from the explosion, and deep shadows animated the animal's muscles, transforming wood into flesh. 

The horse reared above the churning waves, its eyes mad, rolling, flashing, its nostrils flaring wide, and it pawed at the air in sheer terror and lunacy with its great, feathered hooves. It whinnied and screamed to its rider, its captain, in pain; it cried out to Ioade in its agony at its destruction, in horror at what had been done to it. 

Then, with a last, wrenching screech, the horse plunged forward beneath the water, the light of its blazing mane vanishing in a huff of smoke. 

Ioade cried out in response, and cried out again, like a mother to a lost child, banged a fist against the window pane, her eyes wide and streaming with incensed tears. 

"The _bastard!_ The _bastard!_" She sobbed furiously. "I'll _kill_ him! My _ship!_ _My ship!_ I'll _kill_ him! That _bloody bastard!_" 

Hanging beyond the last remaining floats of flickering detritus, the silhouette of a ship lurked beyond the hazy veil of smoke that hovered in the air like the ghost of the sunken vessel. 

"What will she do now, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, as she and Will stood on the fore deck of the Black Pearl with Her captain. 

Jack raised an eyebrow, glanced sideways, and then back out at the familiar scene before them on the water. 

"She'll get inconceivably angry, she'll shout alot, and wave her arms around, and threaten to kill a few people, and when she's done with her little temper tantrum, she'll come after me." The pirate replied coolly. Then he paused for a moment. "Just like she did last time." He added with a chuckle. 

-~*~- 


	6. Compromises, orders and manipulation

Author's notes: Muffins, peeps! Has it really been a month since I uploaded last? I'm so sorry! I promised I won't do that again. Or at least, I'll try my utmost hardest not to. :) So...review thank-yous - where do I start?! Luckily, Ildera's lent me Jack again, and seeing as I did manage to get the dosage of rum right this time *sheepish grin*, I think we'll get started. Jack! 

Jack (appears onstage, looking round a little confusedly, and then spots Ariandir): Ah! Arian, luv. Is it review time? 

Ariandir: Yup. *hands Jack a wodge of reviews* Right, then - whose up first? 

Jack: Aha! Good ol' 'Dera. 

Ariandir: Oh, yes. We've covered most of this in our emails, haven't we m'hunni? I'm sorry I haven't updated for so long, but you know the score. 

Jack: You mean the myriad of excuses you sent her? 

Ariandir (looks awkward): Uh...yeah, that too. 

*Jack smirks* 

Ariandir: Anywho, thanks for the praise, and I promise I will be more regular with my updates from here on in. *salutes smartly* Here, have a muffin... 

Jack: Next up is bobo3. What's the idea? Landing a girl in a sea chest on my ship...*mutters* 

Ariandir: Ignore him - he's just put out because Amy keeps turning him down. *grin* Hey, you betcha I checked out Four-sided Eyes, and Not All Treasure Is Silver And Gold! Great stuff! And I'm glad you like Ioade and Kate - it's always a risky business having two of your own characters being as key to a story as the canon ones, so I'm really pleased you like them. Thirdly, we have...ooh! Another new reviewer! Hey there, Savvy-Z-dude! 

Jack: S'just as well your Rosaline isn't like Ariandir's - God! Imagine having _two_ girls like that running around... 

Ariandir: Your bed wouldn't be cold for a while, would it? 

*Jack gives the authoress a Sparrow Grin* 

Ariandir: Veering back onto the subject, thank you for your kudos, and rest assured that this will become a fic of epic proportions. 

Jack: The reasoning behind that being that she's incapable of writing short stories. Oh, it's rythmteck next! 

Ariandir (bites lip and looks ashamed): Oh, dear... 

Jack: Arian's feeling guilty because she hasn't reviewed you sequel. 

Ariandir (mutters): Thanks for dropping me in that one, Jack. 

Jack (brightly): Any time! 

Ariandir: What can I say to placate you, oh holy rythteck? _I'm so sorry! _*grabs the hems of rythmteck's clothes and starts kissing them* There are millions of excuses I could come out with, but none of them are particularly plausible, apart from- 

Jack: She hasn't had time because of Guscceys revision and homework. I still can't believe they make you have an education nowadays... 

Ariandir: Can you forgive me? *sheepish grin* I swear I'll be good and start reviewing again, even if you don't want to like me. In the meantime, however, there was purpose behind the pyrotechnics. ;) I wasn't just randomly blowing up Ioade's ship because I felt like committing arson. My love to Winn, by the by - I hope she doesn't hate me for not reviewing, either. 

Jack: Ah, the faithful lulu bell is the penultimate of the agenda, m'lady. 

Ariandir: It's so becoming of him when he's intelligent isn't it? 

*Jack shines his nails on the front of his coat* 

Ariandir: So, anyway - yes! Bad Jack, indeed! *chuckles as Jack looks scandalised* Well, in all honesty, dearest Captain, it wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it? But you're right in your prediction of comical fireworks to come, bell - read on, and observe Ioade's temper. *evil grin* 

Jack (looking rather shaken): And last but by no means least...Starscape Dream. 

Ariandir: Ooh! Hello! *big huggles to Starscape* 

Jack: Friend of yours? 

Ariandir: Yeah! Nice to hear from you! And thank you for checking out my Pirates fic, too - it's the best you've read? Wow! *blushes* Surely not. You're so lovely! 

Jack (reading on down review): Uh, Arian...*nudges authoress and points to the end of the text* 

Ariandir (pales): Oooo...ok - I promise I write more...burnt sticks...*shudders* 

Jack: Well, I believe that's all for now, ladies and gentlemen, so read on, and when you finish, click on the blue button, savvy? Because otherwise Arian will be very upset. 

Ariandir: Ah, he's so thoughtful. 

Jack: And I don't want to have to put up with her getting like she did when they told her she had coursework to do over half term. 

*Authoress directs Jack a flat look* 

Ariandir: We'll talk about this later, Mr Sparrow. Loads luv, huggles and muffins to everyone, and take care! 

-~*~- 

Ioade sat on the edge of her cot, her brine-stained shirt hanging loosely from her slouched form, as the moonlight spilt through the window and bathed her extremities in silver. The tears had not ceased to roll silently down her face in the small hours since the Dark Horse had died, though much of her composure had been regained, and she was now deep in thought. 

Kate stood wordlessly in the shadows at the end of the cot, having risen from her own room to come to Ioade's when she was woken by the noise. She remained silent not because she didn't know what to say, or because she felt awkward, but simply because this was not the time for words; there was no consolation to be given to her captain, and so she gave none, keeping her own emotions reserved behind a serene and beautiful mask. She remembered, from what seemed so long ago now, seeing another young woman grieve silently, and in a manner so like that of the one sitting below her on the edge of the cot that she was unable to hold back the sad little sigh that came to her lips. 

The silence continued. And continued. And continued. 

Ioade stirred. 

"We're going after him." 

Kate glanced sideways with her tawny, cat-like eyes. 

"Aye, Captain." 

And then, all for no reason - just for a keel, and a hull, and a deck, and some sails, Ioade Morgan, the vivacious young pirate captain who had been defeated and humiliated by a fox, buried her face in her hands, and wept. 

-~*~- 

It was a clear, crisp, fresh morning out on the endless blue, and Jack was not in the slightest bit concerned when a member of his crew announced that a rowing boat occupied by two people - one screaming some rather uncomplimentary things about his ancestry - was quickly gaining on them. 

Actually, that was a _slight_ distortion of the truth; he was verging on outright terrified, but then again, he was _also_ Captain Jack Sparrow. And then he realised that this could really do nothing but make the situation worse, and that he was, infact, about to enter his own personal hell. 

"Women." He muttered under his breath. 

"It's Ioade and 'er first mate, sir." Gibbs reported, his eye fixed to the telescope. "Do you want us to fire on them?" 

"No!" Jack called back. "Don't stop, lads. Don't turn around; she'll cool off in a minute." 

The Black Pearl continued to drift along at a sea-slug's pace for the next hour or so, always with the rowing boat snapping at her stern like a small dog with its bone stolen. 

Jack fully intended to draw this out for as long as possible, knowing that Ioade's pride would not allow her to give up the chase, but also that Kate's arms would only allow her to row for so long, and that sooner or later, the only compromise between the two extremes would be for them to come aboard. 

Also, hopefully by that time, Ioade's voice would have given out, too - some of her insults, jack felt, were not entirely deserved. 

But the deadly duo in their rowing boat quite seriously impressed Captain Sparrow by managing to last another full forty five minutes, before a coloured flash from Kate's pistol indicated that her limbs had finally refused to work. 

"_You!_" Ioade shrieked, striding across the deck and dealing Jack a stunning blow across the face. "_How dare you?!_" 

Jack winced as he tenderly rotated his jaw. 

"Good shot, luv." He grimaced. "I really have to admit you earned that." 

"Don't you 'luv' me, you plague rat!" Ioade spat, her smokey eyes burning. "I'll see you grated on the rocks, and your heart fed to the sharks!" 

Her hand flashed to the hilt of her cutlass, but was restrained at the wrist by Kate, who, despite this action to avoid physical confrontation, was staring at Jack in a unblinking sort of way that he didn't exactly like. 

"I take it you took our crew hostage?" She asked in a voice that was far too quiet to be safe. 

"Aye." 

"And that you also looted a good deal of our spoil?" 

"All of it, actually." Jack grinned brightly. "Not many hands aboard your ship, are there?" 

"_Were_ there." Kate corrected him, letting an uncharacteristic tang of bitterness enter her tone. 

"Oh, yeah." Sparrow's grin dropped. 

"I also have enough faith in your _bizarre_ code of conduct to assume that the girl and Bootstrap's lad are safe." 

"Of course." 

"For your sake, I hope so." She purred, like a cat. 

By this time, the whole deck was under a deathly hush; Jack narrowed his eyes at her. 

"We're really going to have to have a talk about your issues sometime, luv." He said softly. "You've _obviously_ picked some up in the interlude." 

Something's in Kate's face petrified, and she fixed Jack with an odd sort of expression for a moment - a blank, painted sort of expression. 

Then she straightened up, and took a step back from Ioade, who by this time had regained control of her temper, and had been observing the conversation apprehensively. Then Ioade shot Jack a thoroughly revolted look, turned on her heel, and crossed to the rail on the other side of the deck. 

All eyes were on Jack, who awkwardly broke the silence: 

"Release Miss Morgan's crew from the brig." He ordered. "And tell them that if they wish to eat on this ship, they'll work." 

Kate's head snapped round to look at him. 

"They're Ioade's men." She said coldly. 

Jack locked her gaze with half-closed eyes, taking a few slow steps forward until he was far into her personal space. 

"And they're on _my_ ship. _I'm_ captain around here, luv," He whispered, bringing his hand up to bury it in her thick, dark locks, and trailing it round caress her neck. "So get used to it." 

-~*~- 

Ioade was thoroughly miserable. She'd lost her ship, her gains, her crew, her dignity, and now her composure was about to slip from her grasp, too. 

The young girl blinked back the rising tears, and stared determinedly out at the ocean; she'd pay Jack back, somehow. She'd find a way to make him stop and re-think how he saw her: an easily duped, niave little lass capable of throwing a strop, with a bark worse than her bite. Well, she'd bite him alright! Right where it would hurt him the most... 

And then it came to her, in such a perversely linked flash of logic that she had to laugh aloud - Sparrow was incredibly partial to women. A lady with the right subtlety and mind could quite easily manipulate him through seduction, and control over Jack was exactly the kick in the teeth Ioade owed him. 

The honey-haired girl pursed her lips thoughtfully and frowned, leaning forward on the rail. 

Not that she'd ever bed the Captain _herself_, of course - good lord, no! What she needed - what she _really_ needed - was someone with brains, resourcefulness and beauty, someone _completely_ on her side, who'd be able to twist Sparrow round their little finger... 

Ioade drew in a deep breath of sea air, and smiled to herself. 

Kate. 

-~*~- 

"Excuse me?" Kate asked, fixing her Captain with a passive face in which her eyes smouldered. 

It was later that day, and Ioade had called her first mate to talk with her in the cabin that Jack had set apart for them: 

It was a small room, poorly lit by sputtering candles, and furnished only with two palettes, a rickety old wooden chair, and a small table that was actually a crate. There was a leak dripping down through the ceiling in a corner, too, and the rhythmic 'thap' of the drops smacking onto the floor boards was beginning to get on Ioade's nerves - she quite certainly suspected that Jack had included that dig in the ribs especially for her; she was touched. 

"I need you to seduce Jack." Ioade repeated more firmly, leaning forward with her elbows on the crate-top, and steepling her long, tar-smeared fingers before her lips. "Since it looks like Sparrow's going to force us into joining him, it's very important that things go _my_ way on this voyage, and that won't happen if the good Captain's playing as an independant piece - I need to have some influence over him." 

"Oh, I see." Kate smiled in her venemously pleasant way, tipping her head back to look up at the wooden ceiling with beatifically glittering eyes, and then bringing it down again so that her chin touched her chest, in a hugely exaggerated nod. "Your influence is between my legs, is that it?" 

Ioade rolled her eyes; there was no reasoning with her first mate when she was like this. 

"You understand how important this is, Kate. You're not _that_ stupid." 

Kate shot her captain a flat, unfriendly stare. 

"_You_ sleep with him, then." 

Ioade snorted incredulously. 

"Don't be ridiculous! Oil and vinegar don't mix without a beating." She said. "And as Captain, it's my privelidge to deligate the less delectable tasks. Therefore," She pointedly locked the dark-haired woman's eyes with her own. "If you won't do it as a favour, you'll do it as an order." 

Kate stared at her for a moment, speechless with indignation. 

"May I be excused?" She asked stiffly. 

"Of course." Ioade smiled pleasantly, watching her first mate turn and walk quickly out of the cabin. 

"Don't break all the furniture!" She called after her. 

-~*~- 

The light was beginning to fade, and there was a tawny aurora beginning to creep up from the horizon as Kate stood at the rail of the poop deck, the warm Caribbean breeze tumbling her hair back from her face. 

She didn't know how long she'd been standing out on the deck by herself, thinking, but her anger hadn't gotten any less. How dare Ioade make her do something like this? How _dare_ she? After all she'd had been through, and not even starting on _why_ she had become a pirate, where did her captain get the nerve? 

Kate took a deep breath, and intensified her stare at the swelling waves below. 

It was all her fault, really. No - correction: it was Jack Sparrow's fault. If only that fateful night hadn't happened eleven years ago; if only he'd chosen a different port to plunder; if only he'd chosen a different villa. If only she hadn't been who she was, she might have faced her dilemma with better grace... 

_The girl sat at her dressing table, running a brush through her thick ebony locks._

_The heavy brocade cloth of her robe was a-dance with halos thrown by the fickle flames of the oil-lamps and the dying fire, her gold earrings casting shadows over her neck._

_And her eyes were closed._

_She would curse her foolhardiness later that night, but then why should an innocent little girl_ _of seventeen_ - _the daughter of a rich Italian wine merchant - living a privileged, safe and sheltered life have reason to suspect that pirates should ever come to call?_

_She never even realised there was someone else in the bedroom with her until she felt the cold barrel of a pistol touch beneath her ear._

_The young girl's eyes flew open, and she would have screamed at the reflection of the ragged, tar-smeared man in the mirror, had she not been silenced by the fear of a bullet in her jugular._

_"That's it, pumpkin - not a peep from yea." The pirate leered. "Pretty bit of work, aren't yeh?" _

_"Per favore." The girl trembled. "Misericordia, per favore."_

_"Sorry, darlin'." The pirate grinned. "I don't speak Italian."_

-~*~- 

_She couldn't remember ever having been so afraid. _

_She was held at gun-point by two of the crew while the rest looted her father's villa, bringing up all the wine from the cellars, having their way with the household maids and filling their arms with all the finery they could find._

_She screwed her eyes shut and prayed that they'd stop soon, but she couldn't shut out the noise around her because the pirates had hold of her arms. There were screams from the servants, shots, raucous_ _laughter, the smashing of glass, the odd furling roar of passing torches, and more than once, the girl found herself certain that she had heard the sound of bodies hitting the tiled floor._

_She wondered why the men weren't touching _her_, why they weren't doing to her what they were doing to the maids, and then, even worse, she wondered when they _would_ start on her - when they'd finished with the servants, she imagined. _

_But suddenly she found herself being roughly turned and jostled forward, and felt the cool sensation of night air on her face._

_She opened her eyes, and saw that the pirates were finally leaving the gutted villa. All around them, torch heads swam and fluttered in the darkness, and dark figures, whooping, singing, laughing, were scurrying down towards the fire lit bay like rats._

_She was forced so roughly down the front steps that she fell when she lost her footing, slamming down hard on the stone, and as she was manhandled to her feet again, there was something warm and salty smeared over her lips._

_They forced her on through the beset town, the burning olive trees and vinyards serving as horrible mockeries of beacons, and surveying the scene of choas majestically from where She floated on the inky water, a huge ship with black sails sat anchored in the bay._

_The girl felt that sense of impending doom swell and swell inside her as they approached the shore, and when they virtually threw her into the longboat, and the pirates began to row, she felt her gut was going to burst with anxiety._

_The seconds seemed to crawl by with enormous effort as the dark vessel loomed nearer. The girl shivered as the longboat passed into Her cold shadow, and again it was rough, calloused hands hauling and shoving her this way and that, and_ _she barely had time to take in the ladder that was dropped down infront of her before she was shunted up the first few rungs; she started the ascent quickly as she felt the barrel of a pistol pressed into the small of her back._

_The deck of the ship was crowded with men, some bearing torches, all she could see bearing weapons, and they cat-called and jeered at her as she was frog-marched between them, her head hung in fear and shame._

_The pirates jerked her to a rough halt somewhere past the main mast, but she kept her eyes on the floor, not caring what was happening around her as long as they let her alone._

_A finger was placed under her chin and firmly raised it, so that she was forced to look up._

_The man standing before her, she assumed at once, must have been their captain. He was an exotic looking man, by any sort of description, with a black moustache, braided goatee and a mane of brine-coarsened hair, kept out of his face by a faded red bandana, decorated with various beaded braids and trinkets. He surveyed her through narrowed, kohl-rimmed eyes that glittered dark in the torchlight, his lips pursed slightly in consideration. His skin was very tanned - obviously he was a man who'd spent much of his life out in blazing sun - and his garb was unmistakably piratical, with a long grey-blue dress coat and breeches, a loose, soiled cotton shirt, worn brown leather boots and belt, a sword belt, and a sash. There was a pistol and a cutlass at his waist._

_"You're very pretty girl." He assessed quietly, moving his head back as though he could quite see her clearly. "If it weren't for the blood and the bruises." He'd moved his gaze from the girl to her escorts. "What did you do to her? Roll her here in a bloody barrel?"_

_The man on her left - a West Indian with dreadlocks and designs on his face in faded white paint - grunted but said nothing._

_"What's your name, luv?" The Captain asked, turning his attention back to their captive._

_She opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it; far better to play dumb:_

_"Prego, signor - non parlo bene l'inglese. Non capisco. Mi dispiace."_

_Her plea trailed off in a murmur, and she hung her head again, quite sure that she was about to recieve some form of punishment for this outburst._

_But instead of striking her, as she had expected, the Captain frowned at her for a moment, and then looking up, called:_

_"Will-y'm!"_

_A tall man, with his hair tied back in a rag and a neat, pencil-thin moustache stepped out of the rabble, and approached the Captain._

_"Care to give ol' Jack a bit of a helping hand, mate?" The dark pirate asked, flashing the man a gold-punctuated grin._

_"Aye, Cap'n." The man replied, and bending down slightly (for she was about head shorter than either of them), managed to make himself understood to the girl in very basic Italian._

_"Says her name's Katelise D'Lazzio." The pony-tailed man reported, after an exchange of sentences._

_"She speak any English at _all_?" The Captain asked._

_Katelise's translator voiced the question, and she tremerously answered._

_"Accanto a nessuno." _

_"Not much."_

_"This'll be interesting..." The Captain murmured._

_Katelise watched submissively through hooded eyes - letting them assume that she only spoke Italian belied that she was capable of understanding most of what they said, catching the gists and trying to piece together what was going on._

_"Per favore, signor," The girl quavered, surprising both men who turned to look at her. "Come si chiama?"_

_"She wants to know your name." The pony-tailed man grinned._

_"My name?" The Captain repeated incredulously. "D'you mean t'say you haven't heard of me?"_

_Katelise noted that he seemed to slur his words alot more than his companion._

_The other man snorted._

_"Be a bit hard for her to have heard of you when she doesn't know who you are, Cap'n."_

_The Captain frowned, and then raised his eyebrows._

_"Quite right!" He agreed, reeling slightly as he straightened up. Katelise tired to shy away, but her escorts wrenched her back, bruising her arms._

_"My name, missie," The Captain said, leaning down so that his face was level with hers. "Is Captain Jack Sparrow."_

_She didn't need a translator to understand what he said. This was the illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow? She'd heard him mentioned before, in passing conversation and vague references, by associates of her father's that came to their villa on business, but never so much that she had ever gathered more about him than that he was a well-known pirate and fly in the ointment for merchant sailors._

_"Perche sono qui? Che vole?" Asked Katelise, her voice betraying how she was trying hide her fright._

_The pony-tailed man, who had bent down rather quickly when she had started to speak again, straightened up silently, and then said with a strange smile:_

_"She wants to know why she's here."_

_A murmur of dark laughter rippled through the crew, and the wooden deck beneath Katelise's feet groaned._

_"To ride with the crew!" Someone jeered, and the rabble broke out in obscene laughter._

_"Quiet, you scabrous dogs!" Sparrow barked, and the cackling subsided to a low, excited, shifting mutter again. "Now,"_

_He stepped forward so that he stood close to Katelise; she tried to struggled back once more, but the pirates simply jerked her still._

_"You needn't worry, missie, 'cause if your father loves you as much as he should do, he'll meet us and pay a ransom, and you'll be back home before you've even got your sea-legs, savvy? In the meantime however,"_

_And Jack buried a hand in her soft hair behind her head, and leaned in close, so that she was primed for a kiss. Katelise made a muted whimper._

_"Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, m'lady." He whispered, and the rabble roared._

-~*~- 

Kate gazed at the deck below, at the spot just infront and off to one side of the mainmast. The strong Italian mother tongue that had been in Katelise's mouth since birth had been her only shield that night - a thin wall of security behind which she hid, like a small child wearing a veil to protect itself from a murderer. Behind her native language, she had been able to nurse the wounds inflicted upon her through embarrassmentand fear, though Jack's touch, and his invasion of her personal space had shaken her badly. 

Kate sighed - that had always been the choice weakness ofhers that Jack had played upon. Only a few hours ago, he'd exploited it again, and she had been defenceless against his attack. 

The pirate wasn't cruel or malicious by nature, however, and even now, she noted, the spilling of innocent blood was something he avoided. Jack was more the sort of man to threaten, to charm, to outwit his enemy with words - silver-tongued as opposed to violent. 

Yet that wasn't to say that he never exploited his adversaries' weaknesses, or that he wasn't to be feared; on the contrary, he was incredibly clever in the way he presented people with the impression that he was a dim-witted inebriate that could be easily dealt with. In fact, that was how she and her captain had gotten into this situation in the first place, when Ioade fallen for Jack's ploy and gone to bed that night with the impression that she had won. 

Kate heard footsteps on the deck behind her that suddenly faltered, and she turned to see Will considering her with an air of caution. 

"Good evening, Mr Turner." She greeted him quietly. 

Will nodded politely, but didn't move. 

Kate smiled slightly. 

"I don't bite, you know." 

The blacksmith chuckled. 

"I wouldn't be so sure of that - you're a pirate, aren't you?" 

Kate laughed; a deep, rich sound. 

"I..." Will hesitated, and then crossed to stand beside her at the rail, though he maintained a respectful distance. "I hope I'm not being forward, but you seem troubled." 

Kate was silent for a moment, and then gave him a sidelong smile. 

"It's nothing you need concern yourself about for my sake. Life is generally cruel to women - we learn to deal with that on our own after a time." 

Will opened his mouth to say something more, but seemed to think better of it. 

"I'm a remarkably enduring person, Will - say whatever it was you were going to say." 

"I was remembering what Jack said to you earlier. On deck." He said quietly. 

There was an awkward silence. 

"I don't know what happened to you," Will continued uncertainly. "But I'm sorry." 

Kate swallowed, unsured what to say. 

"Thank you." 

-~*~- 


	7. Confusing ethics and politics

Author's notes: Arrrrr! Here be another update, me hearties! *giggle* Alright, I'll stop. Jack's not here to help me with reviews, this time, I'm afraid, because I sent him back to Ildera to do hers, hence I'm going solo this time. Right then: 

Rythmteck: Hey! *big huggle to rythmteck* I'm glad you liked the bit in the rowing boat :) That was one of those high-on-giggles-unable-to-stop-laughing-three-in-the-morning-sleepover ideas, and since it didn't seem to lose its appeal even after I finished having hysterics, I thought it couldn't hurt to include it. Yup - Kate would agree with you about Ioade overstepping her bounds; but she's a desperate woman - what can I say? I hope this update is soon enough, (ha ha! Beat you to it! :p) and I shall get working on chapter 8 as soon as is humanly (and courseworkly) possible. Luv ya, m'hunni! Xxx 

Savvy-Z: Glad you thought installment 7 was worth the wait - it was certainlt a long one ;) Uhuh, you guessed right - Ioade's trouble, but she does have redeeming features. As Ildera pointed out in her review, Ioade's a sweetie in all honesty; it just also happens that she's a sweetie with a bad sting in the tail (as Jack will discover on numerous occasions throughout this saga). Thank you for your review, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. *^-^* 

Ildera: Where do I start, darling? :) Thank you for your support firstly I feel - they've made up now, so I'm happy again, but isn't it awful when they scare you like that? Parents. *meh* Secondly, yeah - Jack did what you thought he did. What do you expect? He's a man! And give him my condolences about the trick-or-treaters - that must have been quite a shock for him. Yeah, Ioade's a sweetypie, really, isn't she? She can be wonderfully waspish when she wants to be, though, so its always best to keep a gun behind your back, because she'll most certainly have one behind hers. ;) I'm glad you liked Boostrap as the interpreter, too - I figures there had to be a way in which Kate knew him, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to recognise Will. Anywho, bless you, fair shrew, for your review (hee - I love Twelth Night!), and I'll speak to you really soon. Loads of luv to you, m'dear xxxx 

Disclaimer: I think it's only right that I say this: Will belongs to Elizabeth, and Jack will never be mine. *sniff* They're all the property of Disney (lucky sod), I'm just having a bit of fun with 'em. ;) 

-~*~- 

Kneeling before a small mirror in the candlelit cabin, something of a smile passed over Kate's face as she wound a dark tress around the hot curling tong. 

Will's words had given her no end of grace and spirit with which to deal with the task in hand; it wasn't often that pirates got sympathy, and she had accustomed herself to doing without it. 

Carefully sliding the iron rod out from the centre of the spiralling lock, she brushed it back over her shoulder, and selected another uncurled one. 

After she had given herself time to cool down outside, she had gone back to Ioade's cabin with a renewed sense of rationality, to discuss the arrangements for her liason with Jack. Despite her first mate's reluctance, Ioade - being young and eager - had been _vehement_ that it should happen that night, and had almost immediately followed this proclamation with sending Kate to go and get herself ready. 

"You know how Sparrow looks at a bottle of rum when he's thirsty?" Ioade had asked. "Well, I want him to be looking at you like that. Make yourself as irresistible as you possibly can." 

The young captain had followed her determined words through with matching actions, too - she had had the curling tongs warmed in the kitchen fire, raided the Pearl's hold and picked out a beautiful nightgown from an assortment of garments in an old chest. 

"Of course," She had smirked slightly as she handed it to Kate. "Jack will be so keen to get it off you he probably won't notice how nice it is." 

Kate had then gone on to point out that a nightgown would be far more suspicious than a simple shirt, and was therefore not a good idea, but Ioade had waved this concern aside by informing her first mate that she was quite happy for Jack to suspect what was happening, so that she could rub his nose in it. The dark-haired woman was far too used to her companion's snarky snipes to give any reaction. Unappealing and unpleasant duties cropped up every now and again - it was inevitable when you were a buccaneer, and though on occasion it cost her alot of self-control, Kate had learnt to distance herself from the personal side of it. This was a business liason. 

Kate raised her eyebrows archly as she released another curl - well, Ioade may have deemed it that, but _she_ certainly hadn't heard of pirates holding negotiations in bed. 

There was a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" Kate called, turning her head from side to side to inspect her handiwork. 

There was a brief shriek of un-oiled hinges and damp wood, and then a loud whistle. 

The pistoleer looked back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Marlin. 

"Scrub up nicely, you do." He grinned. 

"That'll do nicely, thank you." Kate said shortly, pursing her lips. 

"Cap'n wants to know if you're ready." 

"Why? Is she going to escort me to Sparrow's cabin in person?" 

The West Indian pirate shrugged. 

"I don't question the Cap'n's orders." 

Kate blinked slowly, indicating that she had picked up on the reference. 

"Well, you may inform our captain that she is a goose for not coming to ask me that herself-" 

"She's afraid you might refuse to do it." Marlin put in. 

"And to have Grapple deposit a bottle of rum in Mr Sparrow's chambers." 

"For incase you need to numb your senses, eh?" 

Kate's eyes glowed dangerously. 

"Go." 

"Aye _ma'am_." 

-~*~- 

Jack's hand found its way up to his cheek again as he gazed out of the gallery window at the sea below. A healthy weal had now risen where Ioade had struck him that afternoon; he hadn't seen her since. He wasn't too fussed about that - pretty soon, she'd cool down, come to her senses and start talking to him again. Co-operation generally required successful communication between the two or more participating parties, for some reason. 

Jack had handed the helm over to Cotton and retired for the evening, to watch the Sun set and splice the main brace. From what he had gathered, young Mr Turner and his turtledove had had a similar idea, only devoid of the alcohol. 

The Captain smiled - Elizabeth seemed to have developed quite a passion for being kidnapped; ironic for someone who was intending to marry a boy with pirate in his blood. Alot more respect for Will had been instated into Jack's attitude, too; 

'Wise lad.' He thought on the subject of Will not having proposed yet as he lit a lantern. 

Will had insisted to his friend that he and Elizabeth were simply playing out their courtship to its fullest extent because it was the proprietas thing to do, but the pirate also suspected that it was because he was anxious about 'getting hitched', though the young blacksmith firmly denied he wasn't. 

The sky beyond the warped glass panes was now a deep velvet blue blending into a fiery orange along the horizon, little white tails of pith peeling away from the inky black wake of the Pearl. 

Taking a seat at the table, Jack poured himself a tankard of rum, reclined in his chair and put his boots up on the table. Now he could at last have some time to muse over the finer points of this venture... 

A knock on the door. 

Jack scowled, muttering a choice oath under his breath as he set down his rum and went to answer the door. 

His eyes widened. 

"Hello, luv." 

Kate was stood across the threshold, her cat-like features glowing in the candlelight. She had done things with her hair that made her look particularly appealing, Jack noted, and his approval was only pushed to new heights by the fact that she was wearing a very flattering lace-trimmed nightgown. Jack's mind informed him immediately that this was not a safe situation. 

She smiled. 

"Can I come in?" She asked. "I need to talk to you about something." 

As he stood back and opened the door further to allow her in, Jack's eyes skimmed over her body, and the corner of his mouth hitched up in a grin. 

"Well, darlin', what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" He inquired, closing the door and resuming his seat at the table. 

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier on today." She replied in her rich voice. 

Jack watched her over his tankard; this was _definately_ not a safe situation. 

'No, you didn't.' He thought, taking a draught. 'You've been sent by Ioade, or I'm a guppy.' 

"Apology accepted, luv." He said. "But you didn't have to get out of bed to come and tell me that." 

"My father always told me it's best not to retire on bad terms." Kate answered. Jack felt something twist in his abdomen as she looked at him through lowered lashes, the russet depths of her eyes glittering. 

"Right." He managed, taking another hasty swig. 

'Keep your head, mate, or you're lost.' 

"So what are your plans for us now, Captain?" Kate asked, her head questioningly to one side. 

"Sail North, and find the Chalice." Jack shrugged. 

"And after you've found the Chalice - what then?" 

Jack knew that he wasn't meant to hear these words - the quality of her voice alone informed him of that. They were stroking him, lowering his guard; she was subtle, he gave her that. 

"Haven't got a clue, luv." He replied. "I don't like to plan my life - it's such a constricting thing to do. 'Pirate' means that the furthest you plan is the horizon, and beyond that, you take it as it comes." 

Kate smiled inwardly; he'd picked her up. 

"And since we're on the subject," Jack continued, frowning slightly. "Why did you go on the account?" 

In response to this, Kate smiled outwardly, too. 

"You're very persistent, aren't you, Mr Sparrow?" 

Jack's characteristic grin flitted onto his face again. 

"I think that's the word people use, yes." 

Kate sighed. 

"I think you know I'm not going to answer that question." She told him. "At least not tonight." 

Jack took another sip of rum from his tankard. The purpose of steering her off onto this tangent had been to give him time to think through the situation, and weigh up the pros and cons in his head. Draining the last of the drink, he made the decision, and rose from his chair. 

"Well, if you're not going to answer that question," He said in a much quieter voice, approaching Kate where she sat looking up at him. "At least answer me this one." 

The pirate captain bent down so that his face was close to hers, and cupped the side of her neck in his hand. 

"And what would that be?" The dark-haired woman asked, straightening up slightly so that their faces were closer still. 

Jack gazed at her intently. 

"Why did you _really_ come here?" 

Kate looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. 

"Very shrewd of you, Jack." She approved. 

"So there _was_ another reason." Jack inched his face a little closer. "And there was me thinking you wanted to apologise." 

Their mouths met. 

The kiss was passionate, fierce; a kiss of lust and rivalry rather than affection. 

"Remind me," Jack murmured against her lips as the kiss broke momentarily. "Why...are you here?" 

Kate sighed as she reached up and wound her fingers in his coarse hair. 

"On business." She whispered. 

It was a confused tangle of moments that passed as they made their way through to the bed. The only sensations Kate was able to remember accurately were Jack's mouth on hers, both pairs of hands feverishly removing items of clothing as they stumbled into the next room, and then the sheets rushing up to meet her back, and Jack's weight coming down on top of her. 

-~*~- 

The door to the cabins swung open, and Jack strode out onto the deck, beaming in a metallic grin that nearly split his face in two. 

"Fine morning, William!" He greeted Will, who cast the Captain a slightly concerned look over the cutlass he was polishing. 

"What's put you in such a fine humour, sir?" Gibbs queried from the helm as Jack sauntered to the fore. 

Over by the rail, Ioade smiled in a self-satisfied way, and Elizabeth glanced at her curiously. 

"Enjoy yourself, Captain?" Ioade called. 'That should dampen his humour' She thought smugly. 

Jack wheeled round to look at her, and his frown was quickly replaced by a grin. 

"Rather a lot, actually!" 

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr-" 

"Captain." 

"Sparrow." Ioade said, pushing away from the rail and starting up to join him. "I figured that if you two had some catching up to do, so to speak, I'd be best put just to let you get on with it." 

The crew, by this time, were all looking interestedly at Jack, who was giving Ioade a highly disconcerted look. Then he swallowed and raising an eyebrow at her, narrowed his eyes. 

"Think maybe you and I need to have a little talk, luv." He suggested. 

"Later, perhaps." Ioade replied with an understanding smile that was far too out of character for Jack to assume that it was genuine. "I do appreciate that as a captain - being one myself, of course - you're busy getting everything _up_," Ioade paused, savouring the little twinge in Jack's face. "And running at this time of the morning; you've risen late enough already, so chop, chop!" Ioade's smile widened. "Don't want to keep anyone waiting, now, do we?" 

Jack stared at her. 

"Well, I must be having words with my first mate." Ioade said then, turning round to address Kate, who had stepped out on deck just a few moments previously, and was now looking as though she secretly wished that a giant squid would rise out of the depths and swallow her. "I think we have a lot to talk about, don't you?" 

Kate's passive expression seemed a little more forced than usual. 

"If you'll excuse us, everyone." 

-~*~- 

"What on _earth_ did you think you were playing at out there?" Kate asked calmly as Ioade closed the cabin door with a barely suppressed grin. 

"I'm in a good mood this morning." Ioade replied brightly, walking past her first mate to take a seat on the nearest palette. "And apparently, I'm not the only one. You obviously worked very hard to please last night." 

Kate's face remained expressionless, but she slammed her fist rather hard into the wooden wall. 

"Do not expect me to do that for you again, Ioade." She warned. "That was an exception, and it will _not_ happen again." 

"But you made Sparrow so happy!" Ioade exclaimed, feigning shock. "He looked like the cat that got the cream when he minced out on deck." 

"That's because he bloody well did." Kate muttered mutinously. 

"Anyway, let's talk about tonight's arrangements." Ioade smiled, leaning forward on the cot edge, and reaching out for the bottle of rum that sat on the floor nearby. "I think you need to..." 

"It was a one off." Kate interrupted quietly. 

Ioade sighed pityingly. 

"Kate. _Kate_." 

The young captain rose, and clapped her companion's shoulder. 

"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, _Kate_. Be reasonable; look at all the things I've done for you!" 

Kate looked at her evenly. 

"Like what?" 

Ioade opened her mouth, and thrust her rum bottle up in the air gesticulatively. 

There was a long silence. 

"I'm sure there's something." Ioade frowned, lowering her rum bottle. "But you know how I get sometimes - it's the drink, you know." She added sagely. 

In the pause that followed, something clicked into place in Kate's head. 

"Give it up then." She said quietly. 

Ioade cast her a confused expression. 

"What?" 

"Give up drink." Kate repeated, in a slightly surer tone. "If I have to sleep with Sparrow, you have to stop drinking." 

Ioade looked at her as if she were mad, and promptly burst out laughing. 

"Don't be a sot!" She gasped. "I'd never give up drink if my inebriatedness depended on it!" 

"I won't do it otherwise." Kate continued. "I've been reasonable for long enough, Ioade - now it's your turn." 

Slowly, the young, honey-haired captain stopped laughing, and gazed at Kate with a much greater measure of fear than before as she realised that her first mate was being serious. 

"You're insane!" She quavered, subconsciously drawing the rum bottle protectively into her chest even as she spoke. 

"Perhaps, but there's logic in my insanity. I'll not sleep with Sparrow if you touch even a drop of drink." 

Ioade gulped, and looked tremerously down at the vessel cradled in her arms. 

"For how long?" 

Kate fixed her gaze forcefully. 

"For as long as I'm required to warm Jack's bed." 

Ioade whimpered. Then, after a moment of what looked like titanic internal struggle, she threw her head back to take one last, sealing swig of rum, and turning the bottle upsidedown, emptied the remaining contents onto the floorboards. 

Kate smiled slightly. 

"Waste of bloody good rum, that was." Ioade grumbled. "You'd better be setting his damned bed on _fire_, that's all I can say." 

Kate raised an eyebrow, and then glanced down at the floor, where most of the spilt rum had already seeped down through the cracks into the brig below. 

"There's going to be an awful lot of drunk rodents down there in an hour's time." She murmured. 

-~*~- 

Ioade knocked on the cabin door, the corners of her mouth grimly set - Kate's sanction had already started to take its toll. She was sobering up, and she didn't know that she really cared for it all that much. 

"C'min!" Came the summons from within. "Ah." Jack added as his sparring partner stepped over the threshold. 

"Yes. Ah." Ioade said with a forced smile. "You mentioned something about a 'little chat' earlier, I believe?" 

Jack gave a nod. 

"Sit down." He commanded sternly, rather like a schoolmaster to a naughty pupil. 

"Jack." Ioade deadpanned. "You might be Captain in these parts, but I'm not four." 

"Drink?" Sparrow continued cheerfully, brandishing a rum bottle as though she hadn't spoken. 

Ioade convulsively gripped the edge of the table. 

"No thank you." 

Jack, who had been in the process of taking a swig from the aforementioned bottle, promptly sprayed its contents across the table, barely missing Ioade, who rocked back on two legs of her chair with a revolted expression. 

"Are you feeling alright, luv?" Jack choked. 

"Barely." Ioade managed through clenched teeth. "Shall we get down to business now, Captain? Please?" She added somewhat more pathetically. 

"Let's..." Jack agreed slowly, still looking at Ioade as though she had grown another head. 

"Right, then." The honey-haired girl beamed brightly, leaning back in her chair again, and putting her boots up on the table. "The leak; its not really that attractive, is it?" 

"What leak?" Jack frowned. 

"The one in Kate's and my cabin. There's a leak." Ioade stated with a slightly more fixed smile. 

"Oh - _that_ leak." Said Jack, taking another swig of rum. 

"It's there on purpose, isn't it?" Ioade asked. 

Silence. 

"You see, I was thinking more along lines of a cabin _above_ the water level, a window with a nice sea view, perhaps. And no leak." 

"I think you might find, luv, that wherever you have a window on a ship, you're going to get a nice sea view, whether you want one or not." Jack pointed out. 

"And next on the list..." Ioade interrupted in a sing-song voice. "...You _are_ getting all of this down on paper, aren't you?" 

"Now, hang on a moment, luv." Jack started, holding up his hands. "What makes you think I should be doing _any_ of it?" 

Ioade gave him a flat look. She could virtually hear the realisation clunking into place in Jack's head. 

"Oh." 

"Quite." Ioade agreed archly. "Are we synchronised in our thoughts?" 

"If you mean 'do I have your attention', yes." 

Settling back in his chair, Jack grudgingly let Ioade take the wheel of the conversation - he knew it would only make things more difficult for him if he didn't. 

"Secondly," Ioade began again, her tone set. "You are to consult me on every decision you make. You want co-operation? Well, now you have it. Thirdly, all the plunder we gain on this venture, I want fifty percent of it. And fourthly, Kate is to be treated with respect, savvy? She's me mate." 

"Is she, now?" Jack asked, and Ioade knew at once that she had just left herself wide open to fire. "Funny thing to make your mate a whore." 

Ioade slammed her fist into the table and sprang to her feet, glaring at him. 

"Don't you dare say that!" She fumed. "Don't you dare!"  
"Well, that _is_ what you're doing, basically, isn't it?" 

"You know as well as me that if the situation arose, Jack Sparrow, you'd leave Gibbs to die if he fell behind? Or maybe even Will! 'Keep to the Code', you'd say!" 

"Aye, maybe, but I don't recall it saying anything of the sort that applies to you in the Code." Jack said in a dangerously quiet voice. 

"But isn't it obvious that she's suffered?" Ioade cried. "It's bloody well written all over her attitude that she's suffered something awful, and you just take her without a second thought?" 

"Ah." Jack narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "But who put her up to it in the first place, luv?" 

Ioade fell silent, a resentfully guilty expression on her face; she was beaten. 

"Now," Jack continued, reclining in his chair again, his tone reasonable. "I don't pretend to know what happened to Kate any more than she'll tell me what happened, but I reckon she's capable of dealing with it on her own. As for your terms, I think your first mate's a sight for sore eyes and all, but..." He trailed off with a shrug. 

Ioade's eyes were burning. 

"You owe me a ship." She said quietly. "You of all people should know what that's like, Jack. You're lucky I'm not asking for _this_ one, but I know how much She means to you; I wouldn't sink that low." 

Jack's jaw tightened - salt in the wound. 

"Alright." He growled. "But seeing as how this _is_ my ship, as Captain, I have the final say in all decisions. You're entitled to input, but if I think better of it, what I say goes. And secondly, you want an equal split of me plunder? You _earn_ it. Savvy?" 

"Aye." Ioade muttered. 

"Right, then." Jack said brightly, clapping his hands together. "I'm glad we understand one another." 

The Captain felt slightly bad for his female counterpart as he left the cabin. Ioade was still young - nearly a full 8 years younger than he was (or so he estimated) - and she had much to learn. The implications he had thrown at her in their haggling had been particularly nasty ones, but he had needed to gain the upper hand in their dealings, and needs must; it had still been tough on the lass, though. 

"School of hard knocks, for a pirate." Jack muttered to himself as he headed down the stairs to the galley. 

Reaching the bottom, he nodded with a smile to Will, who was retrieving some hard tack from a large, wooden box. 

"I take it you've sorted things out with Ioade, then?" Will observed. 

Jack rummaged in another nearby caddy, and selected a few strips of dried fish. 

"How could you tell?" He asked, tearing a chunk off with his teeth. 

Will smiled. 

"I could hear you through the ceiling." 

Jack chuckled. 

"I take it there's a third party to these negotiations?" The blacksmith continued, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yeah - that would be the cause of the dulcet tongues you chanced to hear, dear William." Jack explained. "Someone got their ethics and their politics mixed up. Have you seen young Miss Cole, by the way?" He asked then, glancing curiously around the kitchen as though he expected her to appear out of thin air. 

"She was talking to Elizabeth, the last time I saw her." 

"Not comparing notes, I hope." Jack murmured under his breath. 

Will cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"What's our passage?" He inquired, chiefly for the sake of changing the subject. 

The pirate looked up, frowning thoughtfully. 

"Skirt around Cuba, bring Her about and up through the Bahamas. We'll probably drop anchor at Bermuda en route, sail on past Cape Sable, and on across the Atlantic. Dock at Ireland for a few weeks or so, which'll allow for any repairs or restocking, and then after that, set sail again past the North coast of Scotland and up into the Artic Circle." 

"I thought you said you didn't like to plan beyond the horizon, Captain." 

Jack wheeled round. 

"I also say be prepared to make exceptions." He told Kate, who had suddenly appeared, sitting quite calmly by the fire. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer for us to stray into uncharted waters and run onto rocks, or reefs? Or possibly die of starvation and dehydration? That is if we don't get Scurvy, first." 

"It would make life a little more exciting," Kate shrugged. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd much rather we stick with your idea." 

"My sentiments exactly, luv."  
"Of course, you have taken into consideration the pack ice, haven't you?" Kate continued airily. "And the sea monster?" 

Jack seemed to have accidentally swallowed his tongue. 

"Sea monster?" He choked. 

"Aye! Well, we _are_ dealing with Deities and the like here, ergo I think the possibility's quite high, don't you?" 

"Ah, so what you're actually saying is that there _might_ be a sea monster." 

"And whatever else the Gods have set to guard the Chalice, yes." 

"I've come across Heathen Gods before, Kate." Jack said sagely. 

"But they weren't dealing directly with _you_, were they?" She pointed out. 

"Luv," Jack gave the pistoleer an almost pitying look. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." 

"Oh," Kate smiled. "Well - that's alright, then." 

-~*~- 


	8. Wingéd things

Author's notes: Now, I could have been horribly spiteful and mean, and only uploaded a really short chapter of about 350 words or something, just to tick Ildera off. But I'm not that sort of person. Anyhow, lots of you certainly took heed of her 'big announcement', and thanks to that, I got about five more reviews than I should have *^-^* So, onto the business of thanking you all: 

Megs(): The first of quite a few new readers - welcome! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and I shall do my utmost best to ensure that you continue to do so. Thanks for the encouragement, m'dear :) 

Dell-Doo: Eek! *nods vigorously* Yes! Ok - I'll update quickly! And uh...your smile really scares me...*O-O* 

Savy: Hey! Third new reviewer! *huggles* I've heard alot about you from Ildera's thanks - what on earth do you keep doing to poor Will? Anywho, thanks for your support, and I'm glad you've joined us :) 

bobo3: I know! Poor Kate indeed! I'll give her your condolences - I'm sure she'll appreciate them! Ah, the dreaded writer's block; there's no 100% successful cure as far as I know, having suffered from it time to time myself. The only thing I can recommend is a muse - they're usually quite happy to adopt you if you placate them with nice things, so give it a try *^-~* Nice to hear from you, m'hunni xxx 

Dark Lady2: Even though you only reviewed chapter 4, it's a new review, so I think it counts - I'll be lenient with you ;) Thanks, babe! 

lulu bell(): Hey there, chicken! *mwah* Yeah, Ioade's mean to Kate, but what can you do? She has her reasons, bless her. It's funny how Kate's getting so much sympathy, and everyone's putting Ioade in the doghouse...oh well, another plot revelation for another chapter. Thanks for reviewing, and I promise that I'll try and keep my updates more regular ('coz that rabble certainly will...*jerks thumb at Ildera and her mob*) 

Ildera: And last but certainly not least, the criminal mastermind herself - well, I guess I should really be thanking you, because look at all the new reviewers I got *^-^* I'll grudgingly admit that that was very crafty of you, but I still don't have to like you for it...aw, what the hell - you know I love you anyway, so what's the point, right? Yes, Ioade is very niave, but I'm sure you'll agree that it's part of the charm of her character, and as for the thing you said about Kate's feelings on her circumstance...*smirk* well, he's Jack, isn't he? Thanks for the booster on the update front, and I'm expecting to see one from you now, missy! Luv ya loads, m'hunni *big huggles* and my love to lil' Matt, too xxxx 

I would like to add in conclusion to these thank yous, a special thank you to all who reviewed as a result of Ildera's 'big announcement' - it really gave me an incentive to get this one up. I'm sorry it hasn't gone up as quickly as I would have liked it to, but any of you who read my responding review to the last set of Fair Wind or Foul author's thanks, I'm battling with chronic Mock GCSE syndrome, at the moment. I've also had a migraine for the last two days and been off school, so I couldn't even walk in a straight line, let alone touch the computer. Anyhow, I promise that chapter 9 will be up as soon as is courseworkly possible, and in the meantime, I leave you with chapter 8. Luv and muffins to you all, dudes ;) xxxx 

Disclaimer: If you've been reading my previous chapters properly, like the devoted readers you are, you'll have gathered by now that I don't own POTC. Or Jack Sparrow. Wait - can't you just loan him to me?... 

-~*~- 

It was still dark. 

A blue haze surrounded the Black Pearl as a thick fog of early morning swirled above the water. 

It brushed against windowpanes and portholes, and drifted through rigging, through the tiny holes in the weave of the furled sails; it crept along the decks, it rolled down stairwells, it coiled around the handles of the ship's wheel and the capstan, and it rolled along the scuppers like water. 

The bowsprit, like a cutlass blade, pierced the fog and ripped through its cobwebby shrouds as the Pearl glided slowly forward, and the few able seamen who weren't sleeping or eating their rations in the galley sat in high places on the deck, and gazed over the rails to watch the ghostly mist hovering over the waves. 

Grapple was a young boy with thick, wavy black hair, and eyes of a blue so dark that they could be likened to the depths of the ocean. Despite the fact that his scrawny build, unruly hair and ragged, dirty clothing gave him the appearance of a scarecrow, Kate had always firmly believed that he would grow to possess great good looks one day, and Ioade that he would grow to be an excellent pirate. 

No one - not even the Dark Horse's former captain - knew where, what or who he had been before he had gone on the account. He had, in fact, simply seemed to come with the ship when Ioade had aquired it. 

The finest Irish pirate ship ever built, the Dark Horse had been deemed - constructed by the most skilled of the trade, her hull, her sides and her deck had been of finest quality Oak heartwood, her sails of brilliant white canvas, and her legendary figurehead of Yew. 

Like all pirate ships, she had been built for speed; to run down victim vessels, like a shark after its prey. Her keel could cut through waves like a knife, and when she was all in the wind, with the Jolly Roger writhing and snapping at the tip of her main mast, she was the finest sight in all the ocean. 

Grapple sighed as he sat atop a thick coil of rope, a crude fife poised in his grubby fingers; he missed that ship a great deal. She had been his home, his life for nigh five years, and now she was suddenly gone, taken, and he would never have her back. 

With another sigh, the boy lifted the fife to his lips, and beating time with one bare, tar-smeared foot on the side of the coil, began to play a jig. 

The trilling notes leapt out from the end of the pipe and into the air, drifting off into the thick fog, and ringing up amid the ropes and the sails and the deadeyes overhead. 

The young piper played on, swaying slightly in tempo with the music atop his coil, only pausing to snatch an occasional breath that saw him through the next few bars. 

Out a little way from the helm, and just above the tip of the bowsprit, a tiny black flapping thing had appeared in the fog, and was growing steadily larger. At first, it only looked like an indistinct dark blob, bobbing ever so slightly. Next, it could have been mistaken for a spider, flopping up and down in mid air as though it were suspended from the sky on a string, and after that, more bat-like, with flapping wings. 

Gradually, its outline became more distinct as it neared the ship, and Grapple, pausing in his tune, looked up at it curiously. 

Then, in a suddenly swirl and rush of displaced fog, a glossy black bird with a long tail, fanned out in flight, and bright patches of white and bottle green swooped down, and alighted on the deck. 

It looked up at the young boy with intelligent dark eyes, and ambled forward, its progress intermittently punctuated by hops, and flaps of its wings. 

After a moment, it fluttered up onto Grapple's knees, and then settled there, cocking its head to one side in greeting. 

The boy stared at it for a moment, and then laughed so suddenly that the bird started up, clipping the air with its wings, and setting little tendrils of fog furling. 

Grapple ushered the magpie onto his shoulder, and then set off across the deck at a bound, leaping up the stairwell to the poop deck two steps a pace. 

"Marlin! Amazu!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, and one hazy dark figure of a pair stood at the stern rail turned to look at him. "Look, Marlin! Harlequin's found his way back!" 

The West Indian pirate frowned for a moment, and then grinned as broadly as the Cabin boy as he sprinted out of the fog, the magpie rocking and fluttering on his bony shoulder. 

"Devil must've flown to Tortuga, and followed us on from there..." Marlin shook his head in disbelief, taking Harlequin from Grapple. "God knows how!" 

"You'd better go tell de Captain, boy." Rumbled the black African man in a deep voice. 

"Aye, sir!" 

Grapple directed him a smart salute, and then scurried off into the fog again, his wavy black bangs swept back from his forehead. 

"This should brighten her spirits." Marlin grinned. 

-~*~- 

Kate stirred, and gave a husky groan as the dim morning light struck her in the eyes. 

Beneath her cheek, Jack's bare chest gently rose and fell, little whorls of sparse dark hair tickling around her nose as she stretched against him, and then relaxed, lifting her head to look around the cabin. 

Through the open doorway into the main quarters, she could see nothing but smoky grey beyond the gallery windows, indicating that a thick fog had settled over the water, and the gentle rocking of the ship indicated that they were moving along at a slow drift. 

'Easy going, just like her Captain.' Kate thought with a small smile, looking down to where Jack lay snoring quietly beneath her. 

Rolling off his chest, Kate started to sit up and push away the covers, but an arm suddenly secured itself around her waist and pulled her back down again. 

"And where d'you think you're going?" Jack grinned, drawing her close for a kiss. 

"To get dressed." 

"I haven't even said you can go, yet." 

"Oh, so I have to wait to be given permission to leave your bed?" 

"Now you've got the idea, luv." Jack said, placing his other hand on her hip as she settled back down beside him. 

"Bleak morning." She commented, idly reaching up to fiddle with one of his dreadlocks. 

"Aye - it'll lift though, and these waters aren't treacherous." Jack replied, stroking the smooth swell of Kate's hip with a calloused thumb. 

"Have you settled your terms with Ioade?" Kate asked, moving her ministrations to the Captain's chest. 

"It's called 'having an accord', luv." Jack told her, starting to kiss her neck. 

"I stand corrected." Kate raised her eyebrows. "Do you have an accord with Ioade?" 

"I do. I'd heartily recommend not talking to her for a while, though." 

Kate's fingers stopped tracing circles on his chest. 

"Why? What did you say to her?" 

Jack's eyes widened innocently. 

"Nothing." 

Kate blinked. 

"You're lying. Tell me what you said." 

"It's really not very nice to accuse someone of lying." 

"Jack." 

"I never lie." 

"Jack." 

"I'm just dishonest - I take the truth, and twist it a little bit. To my advantage, to be certain, but-" 

"Jack!" 

"What?" 

He looked at her in confusion for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth hitched up. 

"Oh." 

-~*~- 

The shadows beneath Ioade's grey eyes were a testimony to the horrors she had suffered in the night through lack of drink. She leant in the doorway of the galley, bitterly tearing chunks off a hunk of bread and putting them into her mouth as she glared at the opposite door post with narrowed eyes, as if daring it to make some comment about her state. 

When Elizabeth came to the threshold, she regarded the young captain for moment, gauging whether the pirate would move for her or not, and when she got no response, she simply raised her eyebrows with a shrug, hitched up her skirts and stepped over Ioade's legs into the kitchen. 

"Oh, pardon me if I happen to be in your way, your ladyship." Ioade sniped sarcastically. 

"Yes - it _is_ quite rude to deliberately stand in people's way." Elizabeth observed crisply, crossing the room with her back to the girl. 

"Actually, _you_ just happened to want to come through where I was standing - _I_ did nothing wrong." 

"You could have just moved aside." 

"_Oh_, _well_." Ioade straightened up and gave a hugely exaggerated bow. "I apologise for not knowing that you wanted me to move - how incredibly _stupid_ of me to not know when you didn't _tell_ me!" 

Elizabeth span round on her heel, her eyes blazing. 

"I have absolutely no idea what on earth I've done to offend you, but-" 

"You haven't offended her." Interrupted a quiet voice; Kate was just stepping past Ioade into the galley, followed closely by Jack. "My Captain has simply aquired the mannerism of an irate wasp because of a sanction I imposed upon her as of yesterday afternoon." 

"Oh, good - support. Thanks for that one, Kate." Ioade sneered. 

"Please don't get yourself involved for my sake." Elizabeth told the dark-haired woman. 

"Actually, I feel it's rather my fault in the first place." Kate sighed apologetically. 

"Aye, so it is!" Ioade snapped. 

"Ioade-" 

"I haven't slept a bloody wink all night, me head feels as though someone's split it across with an axe, and I'm about ready to empty the contents of my stomach onto the floor, savvy?" 

Kate gave her a look of calm patience. 

"Will you let me finish please? I was going to suggest you chew some clove and parsley, and follow that up with some camomile tea." 

Ioade scuffed the floorboards angrily with the toe of her boot, and then clutched at her head. Kate sighed, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

"Come on." 

"Breakfast!" Jack exclaimed brightly as they left. "Sleep well, fair Elizabeth?" 

"Yes, thank you; and you?" 

Jack grinned. 

"Not particularly." 

Elizabeth directed him a revolted look. 

"There are certain things, Mr Sparrow, that even a disreputable man should not reveal to a lady." 

"Kate might disagree with you there, luv." Jack muttered. "Anyway, you asked." 

Elizabeth pursed her lips, and gave him an arch little look. 

"And in future, I'll think better of it. Now, where's that kettle?" 

Within the first few days of them being aboard the Black Pearl, Kate had requested that the kettle from the Dark Horse's galley be brought up from the hold. Jack and his crew found the Blackbird's taste for tea in place of rum quite improper for a pirate - not to mention odd - but when Elizabeth had caught wind of the dispute, she had resolutely sided with Kate, and when two women are baying for something, Jack had thought, you'd be best put to go along with it unless you wanted chronic earache. Hence, the kettle had been salvaged from the swag, and was now an object of strong distaste for Captain Sparrow, in that it reminded him that he had been verbally beaten into submission by a pair of girls. 

"It's by the hearth." He grumbled, watching sidelong as Elizabeth dipped to pick it up. 

"Water?" She asked, straightening up. 

Jack rolled his eyes to the ceiling in thought, and frowned, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. 

"Go along the corridor, on deck, up to the rail, and look over the side." 

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the pirate's back as he made his exit. 

"You can use the kettle to boil out the salt." He added over his shoulder. 

-~*~- 

They were not far from their cabin, when Grapple suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and ran straight into Ioade and Kate, who were coming down the corridor like contestants in a three-legged race, Kate supporting Ioade with her captain's arm round her shoulders. 

"Use yer eyes, whelp!" Ioade growled, clutching at her stomach as Grapple jumped backwards. 

"Sorry, Cap'n." He grinned breathlessly. "I got some good news to tell yeh." 

"Get it out quick then, boy - I'm about to run up the white flag." Ioade said; she was looking considerably greener than she had been before Grapple had accidentally headbutted her in the gut. 

"Harlequin's back." Grapple announced, and Kate beamed. "Don't knoi hoi on eart he did et..." 

"Smart bird." Ioade said in a slightly strangled voice, though she too was smiling. "Good work, lad - go and get yourself an extra ration of fish from the galley." 

Grapple grinned, and tugging his forelock in gratitude, bolted off towards the kitchen. 

Ioade groaned and put a nursing hand to her temple. 

"Come on." Kate smiled, tugging the blonde girl's arm a little further across her shoulders. "Let's get you back in bed before you give someone some extra swabbing to do." 

-~*~- 

When Jack stepped into his quarters, he found Kate already back there, seated in the alcove of the gallery window and carefully polishing the barrel of a flintlock pistol with a rag. 

"Ioade's going to rest in bed for an hour or so; I'll be in occasionally to give her honey." She said quietly without looking up. 

"Thought she was acting a bit out of sorts, yesterday." Jack remarked as he sat down and put his boots up on the table. 

Kate looked at him. 

"How so?" 

"Well..." Jack shrugged, taking a bite out of the apple in his hand, and then twirling it gesticulatively. "She turned down the rum I offered her, for a start..." 

Kate smiled slightly, and then went back to polishing her pistol. 

"That thing's incredibly uncomfortable to sleep on, you know." Jack said, frowning. 

The dark-haired woman looked up sharply. 

"What?" 

Jack raised his eyebrows, and after a moment, Kate laughed. 

"That inebriated facade of yours is really quite clever at hiding your shrewdness, dear Captain; a pirate can never be too careful, you know." 

When the pointed glitter flashed across Kate's eyes, it was Jack's turn to laugh: there was a flintlock beneath his pillow, too. 

"Precautions, luv." He smiled slyly. "A pirate can never be too careful." 

Kate smiled. 

Although she wasn't particularly reluctant to admit it, she'd certainly never have said it aloud, but she had quickly grown accustomed to Jack's company. It was something akin to having a good friend, if you disregarded the fact that they slept together with guns under their pillows, and that technically, they were enemies, yet she wouldn't have done without him if she had had the choice. Apart from the occasions when the public formality of her and Ioade's relationship was dropped, she'd not been in possession of a friend for a long while. 

"This fog ought to have lifted by now." Jack observed, his brows knit together as he munched on his apple. 

Kate looked out of the window. 

"'Tis hanging late, isn't it?" She agreed. 

Jack moved his lower jaw to one side in thought as he narrowed his eyes at the thick pearly grey beyond the warped panes. 

"No need to fret, luv." He mused. "It's not a problem." 

"Of course not." Kate smiled beautifully. "What's a bit of fog to the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow?" 

Jack looked at her for a moment. 

"I think you'll work out just fine, luv." He concluded brightly. 

-~*~- 

"Mr Cotton!" Jack barked, his hand on the Pearl's wheel. "Take a sounding!" 

A barely audible plop followed a few seconds later, and Cotton's parrot called out the reading, its voice bouncing raucously off into the thick fog. 

At least three hours had passed, and still it hadn't lifted; it hadn't even shown a sign of thinning. All the crew were out on deck now, sitting, standing, hunkering wherever Jack looked, all silently observing the eerie stillness. 

"I don't like this." Marlin muttered to Kate. "It should have lifted long ago..." 

Jack peered determinedly ahead, absentmindedly fingering the hilt of his cutlass. 

They had not long been at sea - for all counts, almost a week, with fine luck in weather and conditions, but nothing had heralded the coming of this fog, and that was what was bothering the Captain. If it had simply been a fine mist that had dispersed after dawn, he'd have thought nothing more of it, but these impenetrable wreathes, near as thick as smoke, had lasted long past sunrise. No wind - not even a gentle sea breeze - was there to blow them away, and the grey hours were interspersed, from time to time, with bouts of fine drizzle. 

Jack had ordered for the crew to take in sail and run out the sweeps a while ago, and yet they were still making inexplicably slow progress; and meanwhile, the fog seemed to be getting thicker. 

"Have I not told ye a thousand times before, Jack? S'bad luck to have women aboard." Gibbs hissed hoarsely in his right ear. 

"It's nothing to do with the women, mate." Jack assured him, keeping his eyes on the hazy silhouette of the bowsprit. 

"This ain't no natural fog." Gibbs commented in a low voice, casting around suspiciously. "You mark my words - there's nought good behind it." 

Jack sniffed, and bent his brows. 

On deck, Elizabeth shivered, and Will held her closer to his chest. 

"I don't like this." The young woman muttered quietly. "I don't like this at all: it should have lifted by now." 

"Jack knows what he's doing." Will said softly. "He wouldn't risk any hurt to the ship, nor her crew." 

Elizabeth smiled up at him and nodded, though her hand clasped his ever more firmly. 

Overhead, tendrils and drapes of fog passed through the rigging like ghosts, and the Pearl's creaking was the only thing that rose above the hushed whispers of her passengers, sometimes groaning as she rocked gently through the dead water. 

Jack checked his compass, but sure as ever, the needle resolutely hovered somewhere in the vague direction of West West somewhere, and he snapped the lid shut again, frustrated. 

"There'll be no navigatin' in this fog, sir." Gibbs advised. "We'd best heave to, and wait it out." 

"I don't think that'd do us much good." Jack replied quietly. "This all came out of nowhere, and bloody quickly, too." 

"An unnatural fog..." Gibbs repeated under his breath. 

"Aye, if you believe in that sort of thing." Jack gave his first mate a sidelong look. 

The stocky, iron-haired man grunted, and then stomped off to relieve Jacoby of the telescope. 

"Pirates are even more superstitious than common townsfolk, it would seem." Kate said quietly, stepping up to join Jack as she watched the crew with glowing russet eyes. 

"You're one yourself, luv." Jack pointed out. "Doesn't do for a man to be hypocritical. Wo-man. _Wo_-man." He added quickly. 

"_You're_ not superstitious." Kate quipped. 

"I reserve it for weekends and bank holidays." Jack told her sagely. 

Down on deck, a huddle of crew had gathered at the starboard rail, and they were bustling and jostling nervously about Gibbs, who was squinting through the telescope into the damp grey wreathes; his countenance told of nothing but fear. 

"Mary, mother of God." He murmured. "Cap'n!" 

Jack turned on his heel. 

"Aye." 

"Think you might want to have a look at this, sir." 

Jack left the wheel to Kate, and started to make his way down the stairwell, but by that time, there was no need for a spyglass. 

The figures on deck stood like statues in a misty garden, dark and still, and above them, the rigging disappeared into grey, as though the ship herself were insubstantial. 

Something large and black - roughly the size of a man - was flapping clumsily through the air towards the ship. Its head moved up and down with the effort of each wingbeat, its great leathery span sending huge wafts of fog rolling each time they fell with a loud 'woomp'. It strayed this way and that in its path, as though it were blind or concussed, with an air of disorientation that sparked odd, chilling shivers trickling down the spines of everyone on deck. 

It wasn't a bird, nor a human. And it was coming closer. 

"Kate!" Jack commanded in an urgent voice. 

She didn't need telling twice. The pistol was swept from the holster in one fluid movement, the aim already trained before it was still. There was a searing flash of fire and smoke, the reek of gunpowder and an unearthly shriek that splintered the air as the creature jerked up in flight, floudered for a moment, and then reeled back through the fog. 

Silence. 

Mens' brows bent, and they looked at one another in confusion: Kate hadn't missed; why was there no splash? 

Elizabeth shuddered violently, and turned her face to hide it in Will's shirt, and halfway down the wooden steps, Jack's hand had found a firm grip on his cutlass. 

They almost didn't notice it at first, it began so subtly; but then someone suddenly realised, and crying a startled oath, flung a pointing finger into the air: the fog was disappearing. 

Within heartbeats, the impermeable drapes had become delicate sheets, and then fine veils, and then the Sun, shining brightly overhead and glittering on the waves, burnt away the remnants, so that the air was perfectly clear. 

Everyone stared. 

"That's interesting..." Jack remarked. 

-~*~- 


	9. The Blackbird's Tale

Author's notes: A belated Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year everyone! I apologise that this installment has been so late in its coming, but I'm sure you all appreciate how busy the festive season is, not to mention when you're a GCSE student and you're also a member of the county Youth Choir *looks around for appreciative nods* Ok. Well, let's get down to talking shop: lots of interesting things to expect in this chapter *evil snicker* A little bit of a cliff-hanger again, so please don't berate me too much for that one because I'm very delicate =) So, heart-felt thanks to be given this chapter... 

Starscape Dream: Hey there, m'luv! Oh yeah - they're sleeping together alright. You little sex kitten, you! *giggle* Oh, and um...you can take your Unholy Army of the Night off my tail now that I've updated again...*gulps* Please? 

bobo3: Before we go any further, where are _your_ updates, I would like to ask? Ponder that one for a while, because I'm greatly missing them - anyhow, of course Sparrow's not complaining! He gets to have his way with a beautiful woman every night! *sighs exasperatedly* Bloody pirates. Thanks for the best of health, luv - the very same to you =) 

Sparrow's Pearl: It's intriguing? *blushes* Aw, sucks! I'm really glad that you feel I'm doing something right with Kate and Jack's relationship - Kate's a smart girl by the way, so you don't need to worry about her falling for Jack's *ahem* charms, and you'll find out alot more about her past in this chapter too; please tell me if you think I handled that scene well, by the way, because it was a constant worry of mine that I wasn't going to get them in character, so any thoughts on that are much appreciated. Thank you. 

jigglykat: That's such a compliment that you put this on your favourites list - it's always great to check my reviews and find there's a new reader on board. You're most welcome to join us, my dear =) 

Ildera: Well, I suppose you can stop hiding, but only if I get an email from you really soon!!! I've missed you so much! Yes, Ioade does need to be felt for, poor thing, so I'm glad that _somebody_ does. Heathen Gods aren't fun, are they? You'd think that after the whole cursed gold thing, Jack would have more sense than to get tangled up with that sort again *glances hopelessly over at the dear captain* Come to think of it, I haven't seen any new chapters on your end of the line for a while either - I take it that the new job's got topmost priority, eh? How's that going for you? I hope you and Matthew are both well, by the way; send me an email and let me know how you're doing. Much love and countless hugs and kisses to you, m'hunni xxx 

storm13(): You know, I've never had an official junky before! Good to have you aboard! 

Well, I guess that just about covers all the thank-yous and kudos I need to give out, so that's everything from me for the moment *readers sigh with relief* Hope this chapter lives up to expectations, and I'm really sorry you've been waiting so long for this. What with having received the Pirates DVD for Christmas, rest assured that my inspiration has been sparked once again and that updates will be hopefully be more regular as of now =) And as I'm sure there will be quite a few of you who have watched the deleted scenes on the DVD, there's a little reference in here that I think you should pick up on, too. Enjoy and be well guys! 

-~*~- 

"Could it have been a pelican?" 

"No - too large." 

"An albatross, maybe?" 

"It had webbed wings." 

"A flying piece of church-exterior the size of a large horse." 

"_Now_ we're getting close." 

Will sighed, and turned his sword over in his hands for the thousandth time that hour; the tension aboard the Pearl was taking its toll on each and every one of her passengers. 

Beside Will sat Elizabeth, watching Jack distractedly pacing the cabin, whilst Ioade leant against one end of the gallery window alcove and Kate reclined on the window-seat, cocking and un-cocking her pistol - a nervous habit of hers, Will had discovered. "But you knew this was going to be dangerous from the beginning, didn't you?" Elizabeth demanded. "I mean, you're up against _Gods_ - you _must_ have been expecting to come across _something_ like this." 

"Not quite so soon." Ioade admitted. "We were only expecting the divine interference - and we weren't sure if there would be any at all _anyway_ - to pick up once we'd entered the Arctic Circle; we're not even out of the Caribbean yet." 

"Well, it couldn't be the Gods bound to the Chalice, could it?" Will asked. 

Over by the window, Kate shook her head. 

"We assumed that the binding would restrict the reach of their powers to a localised area; perhaps even render them power_less_." 

"That's only what we _heard_ it might do, though." Ioade pointed out bitterly. 

"Then that really only suggests two options: either that someone has to the Chalice before us, or that it wasn't _those_ Gods who sent that thing." Said Elizabeth. 

Jack gave her the vaguely exasperated look of a man to whom possibilies are the least of his worries. 

"How many Heathen Gods do you think are still around, luv?!" He exclaimed. "They're all either forgotten out of existance, or trapped in some ancient relic in some stupidly inaccessible place waiting to be awakened by some sinister ritual that usually involves blood or dancing naked round large fires." 

"If someone had gotten to the Chalice before us, we'd know about it, believe me." Ioade took up the thread. 

"As for other Gods, it's very unlikely." Jack added. 

"The most logical explanation of course, is that truthfully, we really aren't sure of what form the binding takes, and what it entails." Kate continued, still thumbing the hammer of her pistol, which Jack and Will were now eyeing nervously. "It could very well be that it _was_ the Chalice Gods who sent us that handsome chap, and that we simply underestimated the reach of their arm, as it were." 

The clicking of the hammer continued. Jack cleared his throat pointedly. 

"Are you attempting Chinese Water Torture there, darlin'?" He asked. 

Kate looked at him as though she were seeing him for the first time. 

"So what do we do now?" Will asked. 

There was a silence. The two captains and the first mate looked from one to the other, and then Jack spoke: 

"Go on of course, dear William. What sort of men - and women," He added with respectful bows to Elizabeth and Kate, and a split-second reconsideration as he reached Ioade. "Would we be if we turned back at the first hurdle?" 

"Which, coincidentally, happened to have wings and a sizeable set of teeth." Ioade sniped sulkily. 

Jack drew himself up dramatically, and replaced his tricorn hat with a flourish. 

"We sail for the Arctic Circle, ladies and gents." 

In the lull that followed his proclamation, Elizabeth considered him thoughtfully. 

"Just so long as you promise the _second_ hurdle won't have wings and a sizeable set of teeth, Captain Sparrow." She concluded. 

-~*~- 

"Wine, luv?" 

Kate nodded with a smile as Jack refilled her chalice. It was late in the evening, and as much of the afternoon had been spent conferring and then repairing the details of their plan - this _had_ included curing the apprehensions of the crew, either by a few reassuring words, a subtle (or occasionally candid) death threat, or lots of drink - Jack had felt that a well-deserved early retirement from the helm and some relaxation time was due. So he was having dinner with Kate. 

Jack studied her from across the table; she was looking particularly lovely in plum taffeta this evening. 

"Suits you, darlin'." He appraised, tearing off a hunk of bread with his teeth. "The dress, I mean." 

"Thank you." 

"Haven't seen you wear it for a while." 

Jack watched with a slight smile as she stopped half-way through cutting her chop. 

"Twelve years, in fact." She said quietly. 

"That long? Amazing how time flies when you're having fun, isn't it?" Jack drawled wryly, gesticulating with his hands. He thought for a moment. "The pink diamonds, wasn't it?" He mused. 

Kate looked up at him. 

"Yes." 

_She looked round as the door opened._

_The corner of Jack's mouth hitched up, his teeth glittering in the candlelight, as he ran his eyes over her; she was wearing the plum taffeta and black lace gown he'd left out for her, and very nice it was too. Her dark hair, unadorned, fell loose over her partially exposed shoulders, and the neckline of the dress immediately drew his eyes._

_"You're a vision, darlin'." He smiled, coming forward to walk round her in a circle. "But there's something missing, I think..."_

_Hunkering down, he rummaged in a nearby box atop a stack of pillage for a moment, and then turned back to her, holding a silver necklace; its entire length was set with tiny pink stones._

_"Goodness." Kate observed in a broad Italian accent. "Are they diamonds?"_

_"'Course, luv." Jack replied. _

_"And how many shots did you have to fire to get those?"_

_The pirate seemed to falter for a instant; he made no response, but advanced on her wordlessly, always keeping his eyes fixed on hers._

_Gently turning her round with his hands on the bared part of her shoulders, Jack stood behind her with his chest pressing firmly against her back and placed the glittering chain around her neck. Leaning his face round as close to her skin as possible, he fastened it and then gently eased her hair free of the loop. _

_Kate swallowed hard as she felt his calloused fingertips trailing over her fluttering pulse. The sensation made her tense, and Jack smiled into her dark locks at the knowledge that this close proximity was unsettling her. _

_"Looks beautiful, luv." He whispered, putting his lips so near her ear that they brushed her skin. _

_Kate struggled to maintain her rapidly thinning composure for a moment, before darting away and whipping round to face him. _

_"How dare you? Have you no propriety?" She demanded in a waspishly quiet whisper, looking very much, in Jack's opinion, like a cat that had just been splashed with water. _

_"I'm a pirate, luv." He said calmly, leaning forward so that his face was right in hers. "Does that question really need an answer?" _

_Kate took a step backwards, the constant invasion of her personal space disturbing her more than she was willing to admit. _

_Jack regarded her with an enragingly cocky smile. _

_"Shall we to dinner then, milady?" He asked, offering out his arm. _

_Kate stared at him, only able to guess where he got the nerve. _

_Jack feigned a look a slight disappointment when she didn't respond. _

_"No? Oh, alright then." He shrugged. "No skin off my nose; I'll just eat by me onesies, and you can starve." _

_Turning away from her, he started towards the cabin door, smiling in the knowledge that she would follow him; they always did. _

_He counted silently as he crossed the room, opened the door and stepped into the dining chamber. _

_'Seven.' He mused, mildly surprised. 'This girl has more self-control than I thought.' _

_It didn't bother him that she was holding out this long - indeed, it merely promised to be all the more entertaining when she was forced to endure the humiliation of walking through to join him. _

_He took a seat at the lavishly laid table, apparently oblivious to the fact that there was an incensed seventeen-year-old girl standing in his cabin glaring at him, and began to load his plate from the array of gleaming platters and tureens on the tabletop. _

_Kate had near bitten her tongue out by this time, her teeth were so tightly clamped down on it to stop her from screaming. The thing that enraged her the most was that Jack had - very cleverly, curse the man - manoeuvred her into a postion where she could do nothing but end up embarrassing herself: she could either choose to stay where she was, and forfeit dinner, and then endure the embarrassment of seeming churlish, or she could go through and eat, and endure the embarrassment of having given in to her hunger. _

_Well, if Jack was going to laugh at her, he could laugh at her and be bitten. _

_Taking a deep breath to put her anger in check, she went slowly to the door. _

_Jack looked up with an expression of mock surprise as though he hadn't expected at all to see her standing there. _

_"What a pleasant surprise!" He said through a mouthful of chicken leg. "I thought you weren't going to join me." _

"Aha..." Jack said, mostly to himself. "Seventeen when we first met, weren't you?" 

"Two months off eighteen. Is there a point to this, may I ask?" 

Jack looked at her. 

"Just curious, luv. Thought it might be nice to do a little bit of catching up between the two of us; twelve years is a long time." 

Kate smiled, and smoothly drew her knife through a piece of lamb. 

"Yes it is, Captain Sparrow - alot can change. Your becoming bereft of the Black pearl, for instance." 

"Aye, that's why I remember you so well." Jack grinned. 

"Last girl to warm your bed before the mutiny, eh?" 

Jack's grin slipped a little. 

"Something like that, yeah. And how were your fortunes after we parted?" 

Kate drew her knife across another piece of meat. 

"To cut a long story short, I was fully ingratiated into society, I married and then I went on the account." 

"You still wear a wedding band, I've noticed." Jack said, looking at her through hooded eyes as he raised his chin. 

The fork glinted as a dice of lamb moved up to Kate's mouth. 

"So what does Mr Cole - I presume - make of being married to a pirate?" 

"He doesn't." Kate replied. 

Jack sat up frowning. 

"What?" 

The knife was drawn across the plate again. 

"He's dead." 

Jack's eyebrows disappeared up into his bandana. 

"Oh." 

"Charles Cole. Scottish Viscount. Redcoat." 

The cutlery flashed again, and Jack wondered how far he was going to be able to take this. 

"May I ask..." 

"Hanged." Kate replied simply, without looking up. "For 'wilful commission of crime against the Crown'. In other words, he committed piracy." 

Jack's brows now formed one, long dark V. 

"Piracy, luv?" 

Kate sighed, and the knife and fork lay still in her hands. 

"I know. I know; you see, he didn't. That was just their excuse to give him a short drop and a sudden stop." 

Jack studied her for a moment. 

"Why are you so reputable for hating Redcoats if you married one?" 

Kate swallowed. 

"Because they lied." She said. "Even men who take an oath of honour will lie; they hanged an innocent man. He didn't commit a crime against the Crown; they hanged him because he didn't commit a crime _for_ the Crown." 

She paused, and took a deep breath that she let out in something like to a well-disguised sob. 

"He was a privateer: he plundered foreign ships for riches in the name of the King for near six years, until they commissioned him to attack an Italian merchant ship carrying the profits of the owner's wine trade at a time when the political relations between Britain and Italy were ill. The ship belonged to my father's fleet, and he was aboard on that voyage; as, perhaps, you might expect, Charles refused the commission." 

Jack's eyes darted to where the knife had begun to tremble slightly in her grip, the metal catching the light and flashing. 

"Easy, luv." He said quietly. 

Her grasp loosened a little, but if anything the trembling intensified. 

"You know better than most that the authorities - the world over - have no love of pirates." She continued in a remarkably even voice. "The only difference between a privateer and a pirate is that one is under the orders of the Crown; but a privateer who doesn't obey the orders of the Crown isn't a privateer, so they called him a pirate instead. They arrested him under that charge, they kept him locked in a cell with the same justification; when they hanged him, they read out every order they had ever given him, every commission, but not once were the words 'in the name of the King' heard anywhere." 

The bone handle of the knife had started to knock on the tabletop, so Kate released it from her grip. It clanged against the edge of her plate as it fell. 

"His guards, Redcoats - men whom he had served with - refused to let me see him and they wouldn't listen when I pleaded his innocence. They were honourable men to their superiors, as always." 

A tear suddenly rolled from her eye and down an otherwise completely passive face. It startled Jack so badly he nearly fell off his chair. 

"So I shot them." She concluded quietly. "Seventeen Redcoats. Every one I could find when I went to the fort that night; the policies of the Crown dictate that all murderers and traitors should be sentenced to death, so I carried out the last justices I possibly could before I changed sides and became lawless myself. So, you see, in an incredible twist of irony, I turned pirate." She looked up at Jack. "Doubtless you'll already have heard that part of the story." 

Jack smiled slightly. 

"You've disappointed me, luv - I heard you killed thirty." 

Kate raised her eyebrows. 

"My reputations inflated a bit, then." She remarked. 

"How did you meet Ioade?" Asked Jack. 

"I bartered passage on ships, stowed away sometimes, and one very stormy morning I found myself in Ireland. I met Ioade in a tavern, recruiting a buccaneer crew to sail her ship - the Dark Horse - to the Caribbean, possibly even to partake in a venture of hers in later months; I went aboard, and I haven't looked back since." Kate raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of wine, her hand still shaking. "Well, not often anyway." 

She placed the chalice back on the table, and settled her shoulders as she met Jack's eye. 

"And now you know all about me, Jack Sparrow." She said. "You know why I wear black, you know why I wear a wedding ring, you know why I hate Redcoats and you know why I turned pirate. I believe I've also inadvertantly answered your question about how my fortunes faired after we parted, and I hope that my response has satisfied your curiosity. However..." 

Bowing her head, she surreptitiously wiped away all the tears that had been streaming unchecked down her face before continuing. 

"Every night when I'm confronted with you shirtless, I can't help but be intrigued by the various scars you seem to have collected." 

She glanced pointedly at Jack's left wrist, where the unbuttoned cuff of his shirt had fallen back to reveal a large, sprawling network of thick whites lines, like a river delta. 

"I'd be most interested to hear how _your_ fortunes faired since we parted." 

Jack regarded her pensively through narrowed eyes. 

"Is your glass full, darlin'? Because this could take a while..." 

-~*~- 

The sea rose and fell around him as he sailed on, the ship's prow tormented by the malevolent waves. 

The figurehead looked on, trying to spy through the torrent of red that fell from the starlit sky and caught it thirstily in its mouth, grimacing at the flavour of the red water. 

Drums beat off to the west. 

The figurehead shook out Grapple's hair and the feminine shape twisted into the boy. They were one, and it screamed. 

Lightning ripped across the sky and the wind whispered threats into the weeping figurehead. 

Louder came the drums. 

The ship jolted, sending the wooden boy flying through the wretched air and into the deep waves. Deep. 

Deep, deep down, till he hit the bottom. 

It was dark and the stars danced close above his head. All was still, baring the sway of the sea grasses. 

Then they came. 

Men, pirates, sailors all. They danced like one soul possessed on the sand beneath the waves, merry and bright. 

A man stood in their midst; he seemed more real than all, yet he wore a black mask and black garments so that only his arms showed. 

They too were black. 

Thin white lines weaved their way up and down and among his shining muscles, like rivers amid hills. 

He raised one finger to the mask in a gesture of silence. A wind blew up and the men fell in the sand. The figure in black disappeared on the wind. 

Then they came. 

Hollow and empty, up from the sand. 

The drums grew loud and deafening. 

As the wood left Grapple's body, the weight of the sea crushed in on him. As did the men. 

The empty sockets of their eyes filled with dark light while they came, as if someone had turned the hourglass of their life over, and raw existence was being poured back into them. 

They were in appearance whole, but there was something wordlessly dreadful about them because they weren't. 

They filled him with dread and fear and he screamed. He screamed until they came to touch him and he could scream no more. 

They chanted. 

A phrase just beyond the edge of his understanding, but always there. It echoed and reverberated, bounced and mixed with the drums, and then vanished. 

The men were gone; yet their voice was not. 

And the drums beat all the way down to his heart. 

The darkness shifted and writhed until it became whole, and then the darkness was complete. 

Then he came. 

Within the complete there was a whole: not the whole of darkness any longer, but the whole of the black man. 

Out of the folds of his black shrouds, he raised a twisted staff, hung with many bones. And the black man blew up a strong wind, and in the wind the bones turned to sand. 

The sand fell onto the sea floor, beneath the deep waves. Deep. Deep, deep down till it hit the bottom. 

The wood returned to the boy's flesh and he could not avoid the blow. 

-~*~- 

Grapple woke with a start and a hoarse cry, snapping upright in bed with his limbs bound in the clammy sheets. 

Gasping for breath, he glanced wildly about him; the cabin was dark, and but for the wheeze and whistle of his crewmates' snores, everything was still. 

-~*~- 


	10. Limbo

Author's notes: Aha! A belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to ye, m'hearties! I be havin' a new chapter for ye, arrrr! Ok, I'll stop now =) Anyhow, good old 'Dera's leant me Jack to help with reviews, so I guess I'd better get on with it and stop waffling: 

*Jack peeps round a stage curtain, looking slightly fraught* 

Jack: Is the coast clear, luv? 

Arian: Kate and Ioade have promised not to castrate you if that's what you mean. Anyway, you're on time. 

*Jack relaxes and sways onstage* 

Jack: Alright then; give us a stack, darlin'. 

*authoress hands a wodge of reviews over to Jack* 

Jack: First up...jigglykat! Good to see you've stuck with us! I was surprised and all, y'know. 

Arian: Never fear jigglykat - I shall never cease updating. _Never!_ Although, admittedly, chapters might kind of trail off in a vague sort of way every now and again... 

*clears her throat awkwardly and looks at the next review* 

Arian: Yayness! New reader! 

Jack: What's that? 

Arian: Sparklestar01's put me on her favourites list *grin* Unique's a good word to hear - when I started this fic, I was really keen for it to be different from other things that folks had read, so I'm glad you think it's unique. 

Jack: I think it must be said that _alot_ of people were confused by the dream... 

Arian: I think it must be said that alot of dreams aren't perfectly logical anyway, Captain. 

Jack: Fair point. 

Arian: I would like to give credit for that dream sequence, as a matter of fact; it was actually my beta-reader/best friend Rach who came up with the 'bare bones' of that, as it were. My apologies to her as well, because I meant to put this in the last set of author's notes, and I forgot. 

*Jack shudders* 

Jack: Don't talk to me about bones, luv. Ah! rythmteck, milady, how is dear Winn? 

Arian: I quite agree with you about dear Captain Sparrow's scars; he seems to be keeping me in the dark on that one. 

*Jack grins* 

Jack: Naturally. 

Arian: I'm working on him, though. Anyhow, yes! An entire chapter just for you! And I'm glad you're liking Kate's history, too - the odds on that one turning out too cliché were rather large, so I'm glad you found it acceptable. Thanks for the kudos, m'hunni *mwah* =) 

*Jack looks confused* 

Jack: According to this next review, Arian, I belong to someone called Jingle Bells... 

Arian: The women want you, Jack. 

*corner of said Captain's mouth hitches up* 

Arian: Thanks for the review, Jingle Bell's Jack - I hope you're not too scared to carry on reading *O-o* 

Jack: And last but by no means and under absolutely no cirmcumstances least, thanks of course to good old 'Dera. 

*authoress mutters* 

Arian: Why didn't I answer your email indeed! I _did!_ Why haven't you answered mine?! 

Jack: Veering back onto the subject, luv... 

Arian: What? Oh right! Yes, of course you can hug Kate - she doesn't bite, you know. 

Jack: Too hard. 

Arian: That's _quite_ enough from you, Mr Sparrow. Gods do seem to like picking on children for that sort of thing, don't they? Actually, let it be known to all who read this that when I introduced the character of Grapple, he does and, indeed, _will_ serve the part of a sort of visionary, so ponder on that if you will *gives a little mysterious smile* Anyhow, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and thought my work was up to scratch, Miss 'Dera, so my love to everyone in your lot, and _answer my email!!!_ =) xxx 

*Jack claps his hands and rubs them together* 

Jack: Well, I think that just about covers everything, wouldn't you agree? 

Arian: Yes, I think so. 

Jack: Oh good. Now, where's me rum... 

*authoress sighs* 

Arian: You can have him back now, 'Dera. Thanks everyone, and enjoy! 

Disclaimer: The genius of Pirates of the Caribbean and the characters therein did not originate from my brain. Neither did Edward Kamau Brathwaite's wonderful poem 'Limbo'. In fact, very little originates from my brain - no, don't laugh. 

-~*~- 

Grapple threw off the covers and sat on the edge of his cot, panting in the dark. 

Across the cabin, snores informed him that everyone else was still asleep. He drew some small comfort from that, but his fingers still trembled as they gripped the sheets, and he could feel rivulets of cold sweat trickling down his temples and into his eyes; what a nightmare! 

Somewhere above his head was the distant howl of the wind, and as the dark, wooden walls seemed to begin to crush in on him, Grapple suffered a sudden attack of claustrophobia. A moment later he was stumbling frantically over the sleeping bodies of his crewmates towards the door, which went flying open almost as soon as his fingertips could reach it. 

His heartbeats numbered at least a dozen an instant as he went down the passageway. His head felt light, was aching dully, and as he walked, he found his legs wouldn't take him in a straight line, and his stomach felt overfull and stretched taut; his conscious called out for the galley. The sanctity of the galley with its warm fire and familiar smells and Kate's kettle... 

The boy cried out suddenly as he lost his footing on a flight of steps, and went tumbling blindly down in the dark. He drew in a sharp breath as he reached the bottom and lay still on the floor for a moment, the smell of salt and pitch in his nose as he rested with his cheek to the rough wood. 

His head was clear and sharp from the fall now, and all over he felt chill and fresh; he could taste blood in his mouth, and his bottom lip felt four times the size it should have been. 

Eventually, Grapple climbed slowly back to his feet again, and continued to make his way down the corridor. 

Overhead, through the hatches, he could still hear the wind and the rain rumbling and rushing; the darkness was all the while gradually lessened by the candlelight spilling out from a doorway at the far end of the passage. 

Grapple held his aching head with one hand as he neared it, and turned to step over the threshold into the galley. 

-~*~- 

Will looked round at the sound of footsteps. The black-haired, Irish cabin boy of the Dark Horse was half-limping, half-dragging himself down the stairwell, blood from a large split in his swollen lip trickling down his chin; Will rose from his chair and reached the foot of the stairs just in time to catch Grapple as his knees buckled. 

"Tanks, sir." The lad murmured weakly. 

"What happened to you?" Asked Will. He set Grapple at the table and crossed the galley. 

"Nightmare." Grapple groaned, resting his brow on his folded arms. "Had t'get oit o' the cabin." 

Will returned from the other side of the room with a cup of water which he handed to the boy, and reseated himself as he watched Grapple sit up and begin to sip wearily at it. 

"How did you cut your lip?" 

"Fell." Grapple explained between swallows. 

"You can't leave it like that." Will said. "Get the blood cleaned off, at least." 

Grapple reached up and curiously touced his fingertips to his chin, before holding them infront of his eyes. 

"Here." 

Will tossed the boy a clean rag from his belt, and leaned over to pick up the kettle of cold water from the hearth. 

Grapple looked puzzled. 

"It's better than the water they swab the decks with." Said Will quietly with a smile. 

The boy grimaced. 

"Oi work wit it every day - believe me, oi knoi." 

-~*~- 

When Ioade opened her eyes, she promptly rolled over and moaned into her pillow - it felt as though someone had split the back of her skull with an axe. She hadn't slept properly for nights now, and that was making her ever more fraught by day; she thumped the bed with her fist. 

"_Bloody_ Kate and _bloody_ Sparrow!" She cursed, glaring over at Kate's empty cot across the cabin. "Why did I _ever_ agree to do this?" 

Ioade tossed and turned in the oppressive darkness, trying to sleep, until she'd fidgeted about so much that her feet were completely tangled in the blankets, and every spot in the bed was so warm from when she'd last lain there that she overheated. 

Wiping away the long-suffering tears, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot, the sheets kicked into an untidy heap at its foot. 

"You are such an idiot sometimes." Ioade murmured into her hands. 

-~*~- 

"So y'knoi Jack troo the cursed gold lark, aye?" 

Will nodded. 

"I must admit, I would have thought Jack would have had more sense than to go off on a venture like this; especially after...well." 

Grapple fingered his beaker for a moment and then grinned. 

"So be yeh a pirate or a blacksmith noi?" 

"Sometimes I'm both." Smiled Will after a moment's pause. 

There was the sound of boots on the stairwell, and the man and the boy twisted in their seats to see an ashen-faced Ioade clumping down to join them. 

"Boy. Bootling." She nodded huskily. "Doesn't _anybody_ sleep on this ship?" 

"Mornin' Cap'n." Said Grapple. "Probably not - eht's a fair bet tat Sparrow and Miss Kate aren't sleepin'." 

Will cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Oh, don't talk to me about _them_." Ioade grumbled, sitting down at the table and resting her head in her hands. "A good, strong drink's what I be needin', though thanks to Mistress Cole, it's the one thing I can't have." 

The young blacksmith gave her a puzzled frown. 

"Don't even get me started on it, Bootling: it's really not healthy." 

"D'yeh want me t'get yeh some water, Cap'n?" Grapple asked in his soft Irish lilt. 

"Water? What's that?" Ioade asked with a half-hearted laugh. "No lad - I'll live." 

There was a long silence. Will studied the honey-haired, pretty-faced girl sitting opposite him with her face in her palms; he hadn't spoken to her much up till then, and he was really quite curious as to the anomaly she was turning out to be. 

"Why_ are_ you two down here, anyway?" Ioade asked then, taking her head out of her hands. 

"Couldn't sleep." Grapple and Will answered at once. 

Ioade raised an eyebrow at her cabin boy's lip. 

"And I suppose ye got that countin' sheep, did ye?" 

"The rams were rutting." Grapple said without batting an eye. 

Will looked at him, and smiled. Ioade gave a tired laugh. 

"It's good to see you're retaining a sense of humour." Said the blacksmith. 

"Never fear of me losing that, Bootling." Ioade replied. "I'm of the hundred-painful-and-excruciatingly-embarrassing-ways-for-Jack-Sparrow-to-die-gags ilk, myself." 

As the dishevelled captain then groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Grapple leaned across to whisper in Will's ear: 

"And of course, eht's not compulsory, but eht's also helpful if yeh sanity's hangin' by a tread, too." 

"Really?" Will murmured, raising an eyebrow. "I think I must have missed that part." 

-~*~- 

Jack woke to the sound of rain tapping on the windowpanes; rain to sail by. Bloody perfect. 

He sighed, and absentmindedly buried the fingers of his right hand in Kate's hair, which was spilling all over his chest in thick, silky waves. 

For some strange reason, he felt as though he was partly to blame for the young woman's misfortunes. Why on earth should he, though? It wasn't _his_ fault the bloody Crown had hanged her husband, or that exacting her revenge had forced her to turn pirate. The sorrow of her story had struck a chord with him on some level, though, and he pondered for a moment on the image of her perfectly calm, tear-streaming face, clear and unreal in the candlelight. 

Jack glanced down at where Kate's lips rested by one of his bullet scars. 

He supposed she wasn't all that hard-hearted really, not underneath that mask of hers. There had been something in the way she had listened, in turn, to his stories last night, and then touched, kissed every scar when they'd retired to his chambers. 

She was a good girl, Jack decided as he watched her face, bearing its trademark serenity even in sleep. Just a nice, taciturn little lass who had gotten mixed up in something that had ultimately maimed her sense of emotion, that was all. 

But what were her opinions of him, though? He wondered as he shifted in the bed. Kate had shown fierce loyalty to Ioade on a number of occasions since they'd come aboard, yet she didn't seem to share her captain's wish to see his head on a platter; he just hoped it wasn't anything chronic. 

The pirate grinned suddenly as Kate stirred and stretched cat-like against him, twining a hand in his rattails: he was having_ that_ type of thought. 

"Mornin', luv." 

"It's raining." Kate observed without opening her eyes. 

"Really?" Jack feigned utter shock. "I'd never've guessed!" 

"You're too smart for your own good sometimes, you know that." 

The young woman's black eyelashes parted, and a pair of elegant tawny eyes gazed up at Jack from his chest. 

A powerful gust of wind buffeted past the windows, and the ship rocked with a loud groan. 

"That's odd." Kate frowned. "There wasn't any sign of bad weather yesterday, was there?" 

"I take it you're discounting that 'Holy Fog' that lasted from Monday to Thursday." Jack said dryly. "Sea-storms come up pretty quickly; it's nothing the Pearl can't take." 

Kate glanced at the warped glass panes. 

"I trust your judgement." 

"Excellent choice, luv. May I also add that you're looking extraordinarily beautiful this morning?" 

"What do you want, Jack?" 

Jack gave her the look of one who has been falsely accused of stealing rum. 

"Miss Cole, in all truthfulness, I am offended: am I not allowed to pay a simple compliment without being suspectected of harbouring conditions?" 

"Jack, be serious: you and I both know you never do something unless it's for your own gain." 

Jack looked at her sorrowfully and heaved an injured sigh. 

"You've seen through me, luv." He lamented. "All right, I confess: I was rather hoping I might be permitted to look over Ioade's half of the map again to check our course." 

"Else we'll stray into uncharted waters and run onto rocks, or reefs? Or possibly die of starvation and dehydration? That is if we don't get Scurvy, first." 

"That's the one." 

"Why are you asking _me_ this?" Kate said coolly, tracing circles further and further down Jack's torso in a way that seemed to be causing him breathing difficulties. 

Jack tried to make some sort of coherent reply, but it came out as a sort of long, tongue-tied cross between a groan and a grunt. 

"Luv..." He managed. 

Kate smiled as she took her hand away. 

"Sorry, Jack - I couldn't resist." 

"Because," Jack retried with a certain air of scorn. "I'm fairly certain that Ioade would bite me if I tried asking her _anything_." 

Kate sighed. 

"This whole messenger routine is really becoming quite tedious, you know." 

"I'll make it worth your while, luv." Jack said with a suggestive hitch in the corner of his mouth. 

"And rest assured, dear Captain, that we shall explore that sometime." Said Kate, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. "But for now, we both have duties to attend to." 

Jack propped himself up on his elbows, and watched with a look of disbelief as Kate rolled off his chest, slid out of bed and crossed the cabin to get dressed. 

"You know, darlin', you _really_ know how to ruin a man's morning." He remarked as she tugged her shirt over her head. 

"What? Last night wasn't enough for you?" She asked incredulously. The linen had slipped off one smooth, rounded shoulder, and the hem only reached mid-thigh; it was Jack's opinion as she turned to face him that she should have dressed like that more often. 

"Oh no, luv, it was good enough." He grinned. "Ask any of the crew if you're not convinced - they'll tell you how it sounded to them." 

A well-aimed pair of breeches hit Jack squarely in the face. 

-~*~- 

"And limbo stick is the silence infront of me, 

Limbo, limbo like me, 

Limbo, limbo, limbo like me. 

Long dark deck is the silence infront of me, 

Limbo, limbo like me, 

Limbo, limbo, limbo like me. 

Stick hit sound 

And the ship like it ready, 

Stick hit sound 

And the dark still steady. 

Limbo, limbo like me." 

Marlin's voice carried across the rain-pattered deck as the sailors hauled on the lines. The West Indian pirate's clothes were soaked through and clung to his dark skin, and fine droplets of water coating his coarse dredlocks flashed like tiny sparks. 

"Long dark deck and the water surrounding me, 

Long dark deck and the silence is over me, 

Limbo, limbo like me, 

Limbo, limbo, limbo like me. 

Stick is the whip 

And the dark deck is slavery, 

Stick is the whip 

And the dark deck is slavery. 

Limbo, limbo like me, 

Limbo, limbo, limbo like me." 

The song rang with an almost hypnotising grasp of dynamics: calling some lines out with strength and urgency, and then suddenly pulling back to gentle quietness again, as though Marlin were singing to himself. 

The crew hauled hand over hand to his rhythm, some of them - mostly Ioade's men - murmuring along to the words. Others that were swabbing the deck or splicing ropes atop barrels and astride canons listened attentively, just able to see the silhouettes of their mates bowing and straightening, bowing and straightening through the grey rain. 

Will gazed aimlessly out across the increasingly petulant waves. Seagulls had been flying overhead for the last few hours, borne before the wind and away from the oncoming storm, their bodies like gliding paper cut-outs against the blackening heavens. 

"Don't concern yerself too much, Will." Gibbs said gruffly from the blacksmith's right shoulder. 

"We didn't have Elizabeth on board last time." Will explained quietly. 

"She'll be fine if she stays below deck; pitched and tossed a little, maybe, but nuthin' so serious." 

In the lull, they both looked out to sea again. 

"There's been something amiss since since that thing appeared." Said Will after a moment. 

"Aye; a queer feelin' among the men." Gibbs agreed. "Jack's aquired a head for the unnatural, it seems." 

Will thought for a moment. 

"Grapple told me he'd had a nightmare last night." 

Gibbs shook his head. 

"Poor lad - prob'ly from seein' that beast." 

"I suppose..." Young Mr Turner struggled for a moment. "He was quite badly shaken though: he fell down a stairwell on his way to the galley." 

"Did he now?" Gibbs asked, seeming suddenly more interested. "I wonder what it was the boy saw...I suppose he didn't think to tell ye?" 

Will frowned a little, and leant forward on the ship's rail; it was just possible that there might have been some sort of connection. "I'll ask him." He mused. 

-~*~- 

Ioade thrust the mop back into the pail of pitch and then slapped it back on the deck again with a noise like a wet fish. Her humour was becoming progressively fouler because of Kate's sanction, and she was fairly certain that a good deal of the swag in the Pearl's hold could now be stored in the bags beneath her eyes; and it was all bloody Sparrow's fault! 

In a sudden flare of temper, she kicked the bucket and then howled a loud curse. Reduced to pitching decks and bereft of her ship and her captaincy, the unfortunate Ioade Morgan was thoroughly miserable. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that Jack seemed to be enjoying her predicament immensely, and was taking every opportunity to rub her nose in it; what in the name of all that was lawless had she done to deserve this? Ok, so perhaps she had sinned a good few more times than she suspected she was mortally allowed, and perhaps there was a shred of truth in Kate's accusation that she drank more rum than even Sparrow did, but dammit, she was human too! 

The young girl let her mop fall to the floor with a loud clonk, and sat down on a nearby sack. She silently admitted that she had been a little more disagreeable and vindictive towards Jack than was necessary, but then again, she reminded herself, he _had_ blown up her ship: her pride would only let her sink so low in this limbo. 

'But he only did that because you double-crossed him in the first place.' Chided a voice in her head. 'It was you - you were too stubborn to accept anything short of a total victory on your end of the deal.' 

'He deserved it.' Ioade replied bitterly. 'You know he would have done exactly the same if he had been me.' 

'Would he?' Inquired the voice. 

'Yes.' Ioade said testily. Then she felt her resolution drop a notch. 'Maybe...Well, no.' 

'He's only doing what's right by him. It's possible that things might be more profitable for you if you make a truce.' 

'Make a truce with Sparrow?' Ioade scoffed. 'I'd rather use my head as a muzzle blush, thanks.' 

'It's your choice.' Resigned the voice. 'But you know I'm right.' 

Ioade shook her head, and sighed. 

'You see how bad it is not being drunk? I'm even talking to myself now. Maybe I'm doing daft.' 

'Daft like Jack.' Sniped the voice. 'Face it, missy - you and Jack are more alike than you're willing to admit.' 

"We are _not_!" Ioade bellowed, leaping to her feet and breathing heavily as her words hit the walls of the brig with an almost physical force. 

A moment of silence followed; the voice was gone, and she was alone. 

"Ioade?" 

Kate stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell, her eyes like glowing embers. 

Ioade looked at her older first mate hopelessly, her arms hanging by her sides. 

"You think I should make a truce with Sparrow." She said forlornly, all fight gone from her soul. 

Kate considered her, and nodded. 

"Yes, I do." She said quietly. 

Ioade let herself drop back down onto the sack, and rested her face in her hands. 

"That ship was me life, and he bloody well stole it." She muttered. 

Kate's eyebrows bent sadly, and she went to her friend and laid a hand on her shoulder. 

"He took something from all of us." She told her. "But especially from you and I; he was wrong to sink the Horse, and I think he knows that." 

Ioade lifted her head, and looked wearily up at the dark-haired woman. 

"And what did he take from you?" She asked. 

Kate smiled in a way she had of doing so. 

"Make a truce with Sparrow." She confirmed softly. "I promise you won't regret it." 

And giving Ioade's shoulder a final queeze, she turned and left the brig. 

-~*~- 

Grapple sat in the crow's nest, Cotton's parrot on his right knee, and Harlequin on his left, his fife poised in his tar-smeared fingers. 

He had an old, distressed wine-red dress coat wrapped about his bony shoulders to provide some warmth and protection from the rain, but his black hair was plastered to his face and his head, while his dark blue eyes peered pensively out through the rain. The black man in the mask had lingered in the back of his mind all day, and Grapple couldn't seem to rid his ears of the chant that lurked in them either, like the remnants of a heavy fog lurking in the entrance to a cave, evading the sunlight or the wind. 

"Should I tell someone, d'yeh tink?" He asked the birds. 

"Splice the mainbrace." Cotton's parrot replied from his right knee, whilst Harlequin merely shook the water from his ruffled feathers on the boy's left. 

Grapple gazed idly at the rain again for a while, and began to hum 'All For Me Grog'. 

The wind blew drips down the back of his neck, and there was damp in his bones as he shivered and pulled the coat tighter about him. The rain lashed all about, and hid the Pearl and her crew below him from sight in grey; the sound of waves beginning to crash against the ship was still audible above the low whistling air, though, and the crow's nest swayed through the sinking cloud. 

Through his eyelashes, his eyes narrowed against the oncoming rain, Grapple squinted out ahead for a moment, and then glanced off the starboard side, just for an instance. Through the greyness, he thought he saw, in heartbeat, the topsails of a ship move by a little way off; the image phased out of the rain and back in again so swiftly, however, that he couldn't be sure, and a few seconds later, he was convinced it had only been his imagination. 

Gazing upwards, Grapple shivered slightly as he saw the first flicker of lighting lick across the clouds, closely followed by a rumble of thunder. He shifted upright, the two birds taking off into the rain as he crawled on his knees towards the ratline; Ioade had specifically instructed him that trainee pirate or no, he was not to stay on duty in the crow's nest during stormy weather. 

His bare feet found their first purchases on the rough, sodden ropes, and he began the descent, searching for new footholds with his toes and soles as he went, unable to see beyond a metre or so in any direction. 

As Grapple got about halfway down, he felt a sudden urge possess him, and hooking one arm through the rigging to secure himself, he paused to look off the starboard side again. 

Lightning flared across the sky again, and a rumble of thunder like a giant sailor rolling a giant barrel up a giant wooden gangplank boomed in the charcoal heavens. 

And through the approaching curtains of the storm, as the rain fell ever heavier, a ship materialised out of nowhere, sailing alongside them about eighteen fathoms off. 

What it was exactly about that ship, Grapple couldn't quite put his finger on in that moment, but something about it seemed unreal; insubstantial. 

A voice below him called something out across the deck, but it rang thickly in the boy's ears, and he felt suddenly as though he was drifting away from his body, floating off into the rain. His mind fell into limbo, and he lost all the feeling in his limbs and the colour in his sight. 

Lightning spat overhead like the flash from a flintlock, illuminating the shining, scurrying black figures on the deck of the Pearl. 

The ship in the rain disappeared to the only pair of eyes that saw it, and as his arm slipped limply from its hold in the ratline, Grapple fell from the rigging in a dead faint. 

-~*~- 

Kate leant over the young boy, her eyes creased with concern as she looked over his pale, wet face and his soaked hair. 

She placed a hand on his brow. 

"Well?" Ioade asked agitatedly. 

"He's running a high fever." Kate assessed quietly, inching the blankets up higher over the child's chest. "No doubt he caught a chill to the bones, sitting out in that weather." 

"Thank God Will saw what was happening." Ioade murmured. "He'd've died if he'd hit the deck from that height." 

The cabin door opened, and Elizabeth entered carrying a basin of steaming water and a cloth. 

"Is he alright?" She asked, kneeling down beside Kate. 

"He's running a fever, and I've never seen anyone out so cold without having taken a blow to the head, but I fairly confident that he'll live." 

Elizabeth smiled at the woman's wry humour. 

"I wonder why he fainted when he did." Ioade pondered aloud. 

"Will said he fell down a stairwell sometime last night." Elizabeth said. "He might already have been concussed. Or at least ill, at any rate." She added with a slight shrug. 

Kate gave an 'mmm' of agreement. 

"At any rate, I don't think being out in the cold and wet all that time did him any favours." She concluded. 

The door banged open for a second time, and Will, water-doused and dripping from head to toe walked over the threshold, wiping rain and sea from his eyes. 

"How is he?" He asked, glancing from woman to woman and then at the waxen boy. 

"He's fine Will, thanks to you." Elizabeth smiled at her fiancé. 

Will smiled back at her, and then glanced at the bedraggled Kate and Ioade with a slightly troubled expression. 

"Jack needs all hands on deck." He said in a rueful tone. 

The two pirates look back at grapple's prone form lying on the bed, but Elizabeth intervened: 

"I'll take care of him." 

Kate gave an appreciative nod after a second's consideration, and took hold of the hand that Ioade was offering out to help her to her feet. 

As they reached the doorway, Ioade turned to face Elizabeth. 

"If he wakes up and he asks," She indicated to the boy with her chin, and spoke with piratical gruffness. "Tell 'im we all be up there battling everything nature's throwing at us to save his miserable little bilge-rat hide, savvy?" 

Elizabeth watched her with mirthful eyes, and then broke a smile. 

"Aye Cap'n." 

-~*~- 


	11. Where Demons Run Deep

Author's notes: Ah, there's nothing quite like a bit of blackmail to force one to get one's chapters finished faster, is there? Thanks for that one, 'Dera m'hunni ;) Seeing as this chapter is about 2000 words more than I usually do, I hope that makes up for any of the number of discrepancies on my part *grin* So anyway, yes - thank-yous: 

Moonchild-believer: Hahey! New reader! No problem - I'd love to read your story, and I'm very flattered that you've asked me to. Don't be too put out if I'm a little while getting round to it though, ok? GCSEs are like small children - they need alot of love, care and attention, they stress you out like nothing on earth and they just won't go away!!! Thanks for joining us, m'luv. 

Dell-Doo: Has it been a long time, or has it been a long time? Welcome back! Nice to hear from you again. And thanks for sparing from your evil smiles - they freak me out *O-o* Hopefully this chapter will hold 'Dera's BIG ANNOUNCEMENT at bay for another few weeks, so maybe that'll put your mind to rest for the moment. 

Starscape Dream: *blushes* Oh dear! I'm making you jealous?! Sorry about that...Is this more enough for you? *sheepish smile* Titter titter... 

Savy: Hey - it's our hoe! *grin* Glad you loved it, and I promise - though I've said it countless times before - I really promise that I will make a huge effort to update more regularly and dispel at least _some_ of your misery. Just so you don't...you know...die... 

bobo3: Um, I don't know - where did you wander off to? Yeah, Jack's not here this time - sorry! I sent him off to dote on 'Dera, because I think she deserves a little doting-on at the moment ;) Aren't connections great? 

Karis: *authoress hides behind her chair trembling* I think that just about draws level with Savy's plank! 

Ildera: It is coming. I promise you - it _is_ coming. Is this enough to keep you satisfied for now? And by the way, where's your update? *gives 'Dera an enormous hug* I think you'll find this chapter in particular quite interesting, m'luv. Irish accents, leprechauns and shamrocks all the way! 

Sparrow's Pearl: Savvy. How's this? =) Thanks for your kudos. 

Storm13(): I'm always appreciative when people give me praise for Kate and Ioade - I try my hardest. I hope this lives up to expectations - can I make it three intriguing chapters in a row? 

jigglykat: Yyyyyes...cheese indeed *O-o* 

-~*~- 

There is nothing quite so strange as the lull after a storm: its surreal, dream-like stillness was on the ship, on the waves, and its silence smothered the deck like invisible feather pillows. 

Jack grimaced slightly and leaned heavily against the helm. His mistress had thrown some fine tantrums in his time, but last night's just about took the rum bottle! 

He winced again as he breathed: it felt as though someone had stitched the muscles down his right side together with steel thread and then drawn it tight, pulling them into a ruck. During the storm, Jack had momentarily lost his footing on the slippery deck; that was all it had taken for a buffeting fist of wind to smash him against the ship's wheel - but if he suspected a broken rib or two, he wasn't going to admit it. 

"What's the damage Mr Gibbs?" Jack asked his first mate. The stocky man's bulldog face was creased into a concentrated frown as he uncorked his flask and took a swig. 

"Few o' the mizzen sails are torn, and a yardarm's been wrenched near clean in two, sir." He reported grimly. "Other'n that, few o' the lines snapped - there's one or two un-threaded deadeyes, Cap'n, but nuthin' a couple of days' hard slog won't mend." 

Jack gave him a brief sidelong glance. 

"Get the men to it, then." He ordered, and clenching his fingers around the handle of the wheel, drew air in sharply through his teeth as the pain in his side flared. Gibbs gave him a questioning look, but he merely jerked his head towards the main deck, and his first mate went with a shrug. 

Jack turned back to helm, swearing and holding his side. The pain was starting to make him feel sick, and the idler parts of his mind were vaguely contemplating the idea of a barber-surgeon. He hadn't had much time to think before a gentle hand alighted on his arm. 

"How long have you been steering for?" Kate asked softly. 

"Since yesterday evening, luv; you know that." Jack replied testily; the sharpness in his ribs was shortening his fuse. 

"Don't you think you ought to rest?" 

The pirate captain rolled his eyes agitatedly. 

"I'm _fine_, Kate! Just bloody dandy!" 

He breathed in deeply without thinking, and had to clench his teeth to stop himself from making a noise. 

"I saw you hit the wheel last night." Kate said very quietly. "It's likely you've broken a rib at least, if not worst." 

"Luv," Jack turned on her with a great effort, his irritation candid. "I've managed just fine up until now without you feeding me from a milk-bottle, savvy?" 

The grey light filtering through the clouds made little highlights in Kate's eyes. They were almost black with hurt as they gazed openly up into Jack's. 

"I..." She hesitated, and then took a deep breath and looked away. "It's your choice. If it bothers you that much, I'm sorry - I won't interfere anymore." 

As she started to leave, Jack's face softened a little, and he reached out to catch her arm. 

"Kate, darlin'...I'm sorry - don't take it to heart. Really," He assured her gently, watching the calculating scepticism in her face. "I'm fine." 

She moved her lips, too slightly for him to catch what she said, and then smiled in the accepting manner of a woman who knows she won't get the truth. 

"Whatever you say." She told him mildly, and then retreated down the stairwell. 

"False colours." Crowed Cotton's parrot from the rigging. 

-~*~- 

Lantern light sparkled in the sweat on Grapple's brow like a sunset on a newly pitched deck. Frowning, he cried out pitifully in his sleep, and struggled beneath the blanket, his black curls plastered to his skin. 

Elizabeth settled herself on the bed, and laid a hand on his forehead, smoothing back his hair. 

"He's still running a fever." She murmured. 

On the opposite cot, Ioade raised her head from her hands. 

"He'll be alright through." She said, sounding more than a little uncertain. 

Elizabeth smiled. 

"Of course." 

Ioade heaved a tired sigh as she bowed her head again. 

"Where's Will?" 

"On deck, helping to clear up the mess." Elizabeth replied. 

"I should thank the lad. Grapple wouldn't still be aboard this ship if it weren't for him." 

"You're awfully sentimental for a pirate, aren't you?" Elizabeth wondered aloud. 

Ioade looked up sharply. 

"Swallow yer tongue, missy! I'm nothing of the sort - I'm just glad it'll still be the Cabin Boy swabbing the deck an' not me, that's all." 

Elizabeth made an indelicate sound. 

"Flimsy excuse, Captain Morgan. What's your quarrel with Jack, anyway?" 

"None of your damn business." 

"Fine." 

Ioade picked at her cuff in the silence. 

"It's something that goes back a long way." She grumbled finally. "A _very_ long way; not that you've a right to know." The honey-haired captain added churlishly. 

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she smoothed out Grapple's covers. 

"Funny." She deadpanned. "I didn't see you as a grudge-holder." 

"Bloody well am." Ioade argued stubbornly. 

The other young woman broke a surreptitious smile. 

"Course, he did go and blow up my ship, the scurvy bastard..." Ioade pondered darkly. "And steal me plunder, and sleep with me first mate..." 

"That was your idea in the first place!" Elizabeth cut in. 

Ioade glared at her, and then pulled an expression so familiar that Elizabeth began to laugh. 

"What?" Ioade demanded testily. 

The girl shook her head, biting her lip; her eyes were creased with mirth. 

"What?!" 

"Just something that Jack said to me once: 'Peas in a pod'." 

Ioade scowled at the laughing Elizabeth, sprang to her feet to leave, and promptly tripped over her own boot. There was loud thud as she disappeared behind the cot, followed by a long silence. 

"Oh, why won't Kate let me get drunk?" 

-~*~- 

"Luv?" 

The shape by the window uncurled itself a little, and Kate lifted her head from her knees. Her face, turned to look at Jack, seemed unusually drained of its former colour in the grey light. 

The pirate captain watched her for a few moments, and she him, both in silence. 

"What?" He asked quietly, with a slight smile. 

Kate regarded him peacefully, and he suddenly, secretly, wanted to smash the serenity that was slowly snuffing her out. As was often her way, she delivered a stunning emotional blow through the lips of her mask. 

"Why won't you tell me the truth, Jack? Don't you trust me?" 

Jack raised his eyebrows, and with some effort, gave a weak laugh. 

"Is that what this is about?" He exclaimed. "Bloody hell, you had me worried - I thought it was something serious!" 

Kate responded with a humourless smile. 

Jack's laughter trailed off, and he re-studied her expression with some degree of surprise. 

"Oh." He shrugged. "It's just some broken bones, darlin'." 

That same hurt drifted back into her eyes again; Jack wished to high heaven, or hell or wherever she'd stop doing that. 

"Luv..." 

"No." She cut him off, smiling. "No no, it's alright. I understand." 

Jack watched sadly as she turned her face back towards the window. 

"Bit of a stalemate, this." He said after a while. "Your mask-" 

"Your image." Kate put in. 

"Touché." 

She shook her head slowly with an air of pensiveness. 

"I just thought...hoped, maybe that after what we'd been through, you'd have a little more faith in me. I was just being silly." She finished with a weary little laugh. 

Seating himself opposite her at the other end of the alcove, Jack looked at her impassively. 

"Kate, I'm a-" 

"A pirate, yes I know." Kate said. "I know. No love amongst thieves." 

Jack's brows knitted. 

"Love?" 

"Trust." The young woman replied, but there was a slight flicker of her eyes that Jack would have missed had he blinked. 

"Just..." Kate paused for a moment, thinking. "Just...don't...don't hold me at arm's length." Then she met his gaze, smiling a little. "I'm simply looking out for my captain." 

"_Your_ captain?" Jack asked with a grin. 

Kate shrugged. 

"Well, I'd say you've fairly well demoted Ioade from that position of honour, haven't you? Understand, Mr Sparrow, I am a diplomat: as it stands, we're all interested in the same gain, and we will reach it that much faster if we co-operate, for better or for worse." 

"I thought you were more the 'shoot first and ask questions later' policy." 

"Only if they're wearing a red coat and a white wig." 

"Oh, I see." 

"But I do hope you agree." 

"It's a perfectly reasonable approach, luv." 

"Good." She hesitated for a moment. "Jack, will you talk to Ioade?" 

Jack rolled his eyes. 

"You're never nice unless you want something, are you?" 

"A hypocritical observation in the highest. It's time you settled things." 

"Things are fine as they are, luv. Let it lie." 

"No!" Kate surged forward on the window seat, and touched Jack's face with her hand, gently smoothing his cheekbone with her thumb. "No, they're not." She said quietly. "Demons need to be laid to rest, Jack." 

The pirate frowned at her, and one hand went up to pull his shirt back to reveal the bullet scars on his chest. Then he upturned his left palm and showed her the long, thin scar there. 

"When you choose this life, you're _asking_ for demons." 

Kate took a deep breath, her face flawless and catlike in the grey light, framed by strands of her long, glossy dark hair that had fallen loose from its plait. 

"I didn't ask for mine." She said quietly. 

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against Jack's. Jack responded, and pulled her closer, burying one hand in her hair and wrapping an arm around her waist. 

"I love you, Jack." Kate whispered in his ear. 

There was a silence as Jack pressed his face against her neck. 

"I don't love you, darlin' - you know that." 

"Yes, I know." Came the reply, and Kate moved back to meet his eyes; she was smiling, with some effort. "Talk to Ioade. She didn't ask for her demons either." 

-~*~- 

"What's your past with Jack?" Elizabeth asked. "Really?" 

Ioade was her own age - perhaps a little older. Her hair was a stripy, tousled mix of dirty blonde, gold and tawny, like a lion's mane, and was twisted and braided in parts, though lacking the sort of trinkets that Jack wore. Her eyes were dark-lashed and kohl-rimmed - their stormy grey irises were strange and striking against their shady framing; above them, her brows were even, straight and fawn. 

She had gone back to fiddling with the fraying cuff of her shirt again, and Elizabeth was suddenly hit with the realisation of how child-like she seemed: stubborn, coarse, resilient and determined, sitting with sullen prettiness opposite the Governor's daughter on the edge of an unmade cot. 

"I was a cabin boy." She muttered after a long silence, almost against her will. "A very long while ago. Jack served aboard the same ship - the Esmerelle, or the Jolly Stripper, if you looked closely enough at where the paint was peeling." She laughed then. "Did you know it's bad luck to change the name of a ship? Ah, of course you didn't." She concluded, shaking her head. "S'true though..." 

_Southampton was covered with the bleak drizzle of late Autumn, and she had been standing on the street corner trying to find her was back home, but Ireland was a long way off. She had run away; she'd been gone for days, and now the novelty of being somewhere on her own had worn off. All she wanted to do was take herself and all her possessions home again._

_But it was too late for that._

_The young girl cried as she was roughly hoisted up by the scruff of her shirt. No more than nine, the child struggled in the strong grip that lifted her off the ground, leaving her toes dangling inches off the dirt. She hadn't a hope of moving even one of the large, grubby fingers that held her collar, though. _

_She bit her lip as she tried to hold the tears back. The sailor was heavy-handed, and smelt something awful - of tar and salt and body odour - and he pulled her along like a ragdoll, mostly in the air but sometimes letting her drop so suddenly and so steeply that she scuffed and banged her knees on stones and paving slabs._

_There was something else she could smell of him too: alcohol. He was as drunk as...well, as a pirate._

_"Zssshtop yer bell'yachin', whelp!" He slurred. His gutteral voice was so thick with a seafaring accent that Ioade could barely make head or tail of what he said. "Ol' cap'n'll," He paused to hiccough, and then belch loudly. "Zoon 'ave ye...zship-sssape."_

_The man shook Ioade roughly as she was overcome by fear and let a wail escape her trembling lips._

_"Shtow it, lad!"_

_This brought to light the strange thing about the girl. Her hair, unlike that of many girls, was short and very roughly cut. She was clad in a shirt that was intended for a fully-grown man, and a well-built one at that, and a pair of patched britches rolled up so that they did not trail on the ground. So indeed, the fact that this particular street urchin was a girl would have been lost on anybody - particularly a sailor with more alcohol in his veins than blood - unless they chose to look very closely._

_The docks loomed out of the mist, and the man, whose name was Levka - a Russian whose ancestry was questionable to say the least - chose, seemingly at random, one of the ships that lined a seedier-looking part of the quayside. _

_The ship he singled out was the most impressive of the lot. Beastlike, it reared out of the water; yet the figurehead showed a most peaceful-looking woman, casually removing her undergarments and winking. But this was lost upon Ioade as she was dumped unceremoniously on the deck, still crying._

_Surrounding her were a dozen or so other little ragamuffins - all boys - with dirty, thin faces and ragged clothes. They crouching shivering in the freezing damp drizzle, rubbing their hands frantically up and down their arms in an attempt to keep warm. Then a barked command told them to line up along the deck and hold out their hands. Ioade vaguely recalled being told at the school she had attended to hold out her hands; she also remembered that a sharp pain generally followed this when a lack of willingness was displayed. _

_All the boys and the little girl lined up on deck, with obedience that only frightened children can ascertain._

_Levka joined a rabble of other evil-looking brigands, who were presently arguing about who'd brought the best boy. Each of them was convinced it was he._

_Then two things happened at once._

_One irate crew member - a sour-face, sinewy Laskar - pulled out a pistol and shot the man he'd been quarreling with. His shipmate promptly dropped to the deck with a thud, writhing and crying out with pain; the children recoiled with horror at the sight of the dark blood blooming over his shirt and the hand clutching his stomach._

_The second thing to happen was that right at that moment, the doors to the Great Cabin swung open, banging back against the woodwork, and out loped a tall man in his late fifties, with iron grey hair, a nose that looked as though it should have been used to peck flesh off corpses, and a wooden leg._

_"Well done, gentlemen." He said in a voice like the tide over shingle. "I see we actually managed _healthy_ youngsters this time."_

_There was a murmur of malcontented mutterings that rose up amongst the men._

_"What was that?" The captain asked in a dangerous undertone._

_"Aye, Cap'n!" The sea rats snarled. Ioade noticed that not a few of them were fingering a wide array of weaponry tucked into their belts._

_The attention of everyone on deck, however, was averted by a hunched, weasel-like man dressed in decaying garments that he wore like finery, who scuttled horribly and eagerly in the captain's footsteps like an overgrown spider._

_"Smale." Captain Vautour turned to the grovelling man. "Maintain your worth - what little there is of it - and pick out a suitable cabin brat."_

_"Yes, of course Captain." Smale simpered. Vautour brushed past him on his way back to his quarters, and when he was gone, the disgusting smile that Smale had been wearing slid off his volcanic face like slime off glass. Then he turned his attention to the urchins, who stood quailing in what poor excuse remained of their line._

_"Ah, fresh blood." He smirked, grabbing hold of the chin of the nearest boy, and yanking it from side to side so roughly that the ragamuffin began to wimper._

_"Belay yer tongue, ye bilge-sucking swab!" Growled one of the hands. "Molest 'em in yer own time!" _

_Smale travelled down the line of boy, inspecting them as thoroughly as one could without stripping them; his snide comments caused the weeping children to cry ever harder, and stutters to become greater. At last he came to the girl._

_"Name, brat!" he snapped looking down his over sized nose._

_"Oi-oi-oioade M-Morgan." The girl brought herself up to her full height - barely level with Smale's chin - trying to look brave, but with her eyes shut tight. "Grandchoilt of Cap-"_

_"That's what they all say, boy!" Smale cut in. "Hands!"_

_He snatched Ioade's hands from behind her back where they had been gradually working the hem of her shirt into knots. _

_"They'll soon filth up. How old are you?"_

_"Oi-oi doin't knoi." The girl bit her lip till it bled in the silence that followed. But then, she brought her head up, squared her shoulders and swallowed her fear. "And oi doin't care noidder! So tare ain't much yois can doi aboit eht."_

_"Oh, t'be sure, t'be sure..." Smale mocked at her strong Irish accent. He grabbed Ioade by the neck, and lifted her so that she stood on tiptoes; his hand felt clammy and cold against her skin, like a wet fish. "Take the others to the slave market! This one's got some manners to learn. And some sea-legs to gain."_

_The rabble of crew grumbled and protested and bitched that their finds hadn't been picked, but they turned on the other boys and drove them from the deck like frightened sheep anyhow._

_"SPARROW!" Smale called, his vice-like grip now making Ioade turn blue in the face. "Get up here now you _useless_ bilge rat!"_

_The little girl in his clutches heard jeers from below deck, and the distinct thump of someone falling over a few times. Finally, a large black bush appeared at the hatch, closely followed by a pair of shoulders, and after that a fairly gangly body of someone who seemed to be going through a late and somewhat accelerated version of puberty._

_'Sparrow' tripped on some rope left trailing across the deck, and landed flat on his face. Then, adjusting himself so that he sat upright, the boy lifted a matted bunch of hair from one eye and gave the volatile Smale a questioning look before letting the black mass swing back into place, once again obscuring his vision._

_"Ye ain't dumb, lad!" Smale bellowed._

_'Sparrow' shrugged._

_"Get up!" Smale spat disgustedly. Stepping forward, he seized the boy and hauled him to his feet; in return, 'Sparrow' gave him a look of secure distaste. "Now, you show that...that..." The pock-faced man motioned towards Ioade, who had begun to shiver again. "Where to go, tell the galley master there'll be another mouth to feed, and get out of my sight!"_

_With that, he turned and left. The deck was empty now apart from the boy and girl, and the few hands that were keeping watch, splicing, patching sails or simply trying to look busy._

_"So who are you?" Sparrow demanded, leaning into her and blowing on her face. His breath smelt so foul that Ioade couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. "Or what?" He added with a grin._

_"Henry Morgan's grandchoilt, tat's hoi!" Ioade shot back indignantly, setting her bottom jaw. "Bet tat's more'n can be said fer yoi."_

_The boy narrowed his dark eyes._

_"Jack Sparrow."_

_"Tat can't be yer real name." Ioade said stubbornly. "Jack's short fer John, so John must be yer real name."_

_"None of your business."_

_"Foin." Ioade glanced around nervously. "Tat man - is he always loik tat?"_

_"Loik waht?" Jack imitated her accent with another grin._

_Ioade thumped him angrily on the arm._

_"Yeah." Jack said, suddenly serious again. "Bar your door at night, boy."_

_He turned away from her, walked across the deck and climbed down the hatch. When he disappeared from her sight, Ioade went running up to the edge of the square opening, and peered down into the darkness, but her eyes weren't adjusted enough to see anything._

_"Coming or not, boy?" Jack's voice called._

_Gingerly, Ioade descended the damp, creaky stairwell, clutching onto the side beam and waiting to put both feet on each plank before going down to the next one._

_When she reached the bottom, she was completely blind. Turning about, she felt this way and that with her hands, seeking Jack's arm or his shoulder or his hand; anything to tell her which way was up and which way was down in the pitch blackness._

_A moment later, she was sprawled on the floor with a bloody nose, sniffling. _

_Removing his leg from where he had stuck it out infront of her, Jack bent down and said quietly in her ear:_

_"Rule number one: _never_ trust a pirate!"_

__-~*~-__

__As she sat on the cot, seeing Elizabeth's attentive tilt towards her in her peripheral vision, Ioade let out a little sigh. Her memory was blurred a hazy world of insults, punishments and fast learning; it had been so long since she'd thought about any of this, though whether out of denial or unwillingness or plain forgetfulness, she wasn't sure. 

"I hid my real self from everyone. It was easy at first, when I was younger, but when I started to...well, you know..." She trailed off awkwardly, glancing up at Elizabeth, who knodded comprehensively. 

"As you might guess, it was Jack who worked it out first. We spent so much time around each other, and as I grew up he couldn't really fail to notice. To be honest, I'm surprised the rest of the crew _did_." Ioade shook her head slightly. "Mind you, I was very thankful for that."__

__"I can imagine." Elizabeth said. 

"That didn't mean that I was completely immune to trouble though - Lord knows we seemed to attract more than most. Or rather, one of us did, and then the other used to dive in head first after them..." 

_"BOY!" Smale's voice echoed in the darkness and Ioade came to the man's side. "I have a task for you. And naturally you will be rewarded handsomely for your effort."_

_Ioade sighed, because there was no choice in the matter. She would perform whatever task was asked of her unquestioningly and face the consequences unquestioningly._

_"Take this." A small bottle was pushed into Ioade's hand. "Rub it on the inside of the Captain's chalice before you serve him his wine tomorrow evening. Double my spirit ration is in store for your service."_

_"And what if oi doin't?" The 'cabin boy' decided that some sort of rebellion was only natural under the circumstances._

_"I'll pour the contents of that bottle down your throat!" Smale hissed in Ioade's face; a weaker stomach, and she might just have vomited. "And don't get any ideas about telling no one, my lad 'else you'll find yourself missing a tongue by sunrise, savvy?"_

_The man strode off through the empty brig and left Ioade to continue scrubbing the floors._

_She dipped the brush from bucket to floor, back and forth, whistling an old shanty until something cold, sharp and offensive touched the back of her neck._

_"Double that pervert's rum rations, eh? That's...hmm...very interesting." The voice was calculated, almost ritual and to some point forced, like one trying on a front for the first time. "I think you and I have some talkin' to do."_

_"Hoi long were yoi listening?" Ioade questioned while continuing to scrub the floor._

_"Whole time mate. Whole time." _

_"And what is tare yoi feel we should talk aboit, Jack?" _

_She turned her head and neck beneath the cutlass blade and looked at the young man in the darkness. Hair still flopped over his now kohl-rimmed eyes, but over the years he had acquired many trinkets, which now adorned the dark creeper like mass. He was also trying to grow a beard, but was failing rather miserably as much of it refused to grow at any conformative rate. It had to be said in his defence, however, that since the first time they'd met, he had grown rather handsome. In his own roguish way._

_"Ah, you see I've got a little deal of my own to make." The young pirate smiled so that Ioade was unnerved the way his narrowed eyes sparkled black in the dim light. "Now I - like any respectable pirate - am partial to a touch of rum. So..."_

_"Let me guess!" Ioade cut in. "Your _amazingly_ complicated plan ehs to blackmail me into giving yoi my reward for tis task oi doin't want toi doi?"_

_There was a silence._

_"Goodness, Mr Sparrow!" Ioade spoke into the quiet. "Oi'm quite sure even a bilge rat couldn't have come up with tat one!"_

_The pirate grabbed her and pulled her close to his face and placing the sword blade up against her neck._

_"Your tongue's too quick for its own good mate." He hissed. "Now, we're going to do it my way; you keep your mouth shut, or I'm going to be forced to reveal more about you than just your hobbies. Savvy?"_

_The pirate pushed her away._

_"I think we understand each other." His eyes smouldered through the darkness. "Just remember we've been friends till now; don't ruin it for yerself, _luv_."_

_The young girl frowned at him, unable to quite grasp his meaning._

_"Say what yoi mean Jack."_

_"I always do!" The pirate grinned at her, bowed extravagantly and turned away. "It's just that people don't listen"_

_"Oi still doin't grasp your meaning."_

_"It all comes down to a few basic facts." He turned back and advanced on her. "You, by all means, intensive purposes knowledge and otherwise, are assuredly and undoubtedly a pirate. It's also true that you have a certain lack of padding - not unusual for your age, I'll grant you - but it's more than most cabin boys have, and in some rather odd places, too." He glanced down at her chest and momentarily flicked the corner of his mouth up before turning it back to her face. He came closer. "Of course, there is always the alternative option."_

_"And what, pray, ehs tat?" She was breathing heavily as Sparrow brought his head close to her ear._

_"You could always be a eunuch?" _

_Ioade anticipated his hand and grabbed it before it could test her maleness, or lack thereof. She flung it to one side and making a swift retreat, promptly slipped on the wet floor boards and landed in the mop bucket. With a cry of alarm, she folded her arms to cover her chest and rolled over: the water had made the thin material of her shirt considerably more insubstantial._

_Jack grinned._

_"Not fast enough, luv." _

_But it was Ioade who had the last laugh when he turned and knocked himself out by walking straight into a beam._

_Looking around, the girl saw an abandoned mug. Darting to it and back, she splashed the remaining contents over Jack's prone form and cast the mug itself down near his hand. Now if he told, no one would believe him._

__"And there it was - the true shrewdness of Jack Sparrow laid down in stone." Ioade smiled slightly. "I've never been sure how long he'd known the secret I was keeping, or even whether or not it wasjust a guess on his part, but he was soon to find out exactly how deep my secret ran..."__

_"Land ho!" A raucous voice bawled from the crow's nest. The noise of the ocean was defeaning. _

_"Perhaps you'd like to settle into your cabin, sir." Smale suggested, wearing his most repulsively subservient smile._

_Over by the stairwell, Ioade looked up from belaying a line, her brows bent as she locked onto the conversation. Across the deck, Jack's eyes flickered from her to the two men and back._

_"Perhaps you would like to continue your duties." Voutour replied turning to Smale, whose facade seemed to falter for a moment under his cold, telescopic gaze. "Well spoke the man who once said that it is foolish to trust a pirate, even when he is yourself." _

_The captain took a step closer towards Smale, who had begun to back up against the woodwork, looking more than a little nervous._

_ "But I wouldn't trust you beyond as far as I could place my foot." Voutour concluded quietly. There was the 'shing' of a cutlass being drawn, and the eyes of everyone aboard that ship were suddenly on her captain and Smale. _

_"Rather stupid to be planning on killing me when we haven't even a decent booty laid."_

_"Captain!" Stammered Smale. "I'm but your humble serv..."_

_"I don't think you know the word." Voutour cut across him, his cutlass blade moving ever closer to Smale's miserable neck. "You choke on it. If you fancy a drink by all means have one! The young cabin boy came to me this morning." He held a bottle out and Smale took it it hesitantly, with quivering fingers. "I asked him to test it for me and I saw fear in his eyes."_

_"I don't see why." Smale gave something of a weedy laugh that quickly wilted beneath Voutour's intimidating presence._

_"Virgin Mother knows where you got it from, Smale, but it's poison, and well I believe you know it, though I wouldn't want to squander too much credit on you. You are worthless, a waste of deck-space, a waste of food and a waste of rum. Know this - there be little but a whisker of reason as to why my blade's not embedded in your throat, maybe not that much even. That withstanding, I would be appreciative if you would keep your vile intoxications to yourself!"_

_Smale's face had turned the ugly pallor of an overcooked cabbage by the time Voutour lowered his cutlass._

_Ioade quickly made herself scarce. But Smale found her later that night. _

_And he made her pay._

__"You mean he..." Elizabeth trailed off, sounding horrified. 

Ioade shook her head. 

"No, but as good as. A belaying pin leaves an awful lot of bruises - you wouldn't believe!" The honey-haired captain went quiet for a moment. "You know, I think that might have been the first time that Jack ever used a pistol...thank God I repaid the debt back then, when I still cared whether I did or not." 

It seemed to Elizabeth now that in the candlelight, Ioade's face was suddenly older than it had been; more world-weary; more womanly. She ruffled an idle hand through her mane and sighed. Then she looked up at Elizabeth with such sharp eyes that the Governor's daughter almost jumped. 

"You sure I haven't had anything to drink today?" 

What a strange question! Elizabeth shook her head. 

"I don't think so." 

"Oh." 

Ioade rested both her forearms on her thighs and continued... 

_She sat alone in the galley in front of the small smoking stove, a cup of warmed water and rum on the floor beside her. With a slight shiver, she hugged her knees and gazed into the lazy embers. Her tunic lay next to an abandoned needle and thread by her feet; her shirt was ripped and showed signs of her femininity that she did not want on display; and worst of all, the dark bruises that covered every limb, and her swollen lip and black eye. _

_She heard footsteps come up the galley and she clutched at the front of her shirt protectively._

_Sparrow sat down beside her - there was a rosy stain across one of his cheekbones - and picked up the mug to take a swig. Then he passed it into her waiting hand. Ioade drained it. So they sat in silence._

_"Thanks." Sparrow muttered briefly. "But next time luv, keep to the code. A fist fight ain't no place for a girl."_

_"Oi'm not..." She started, but Jack raised an eyebrow and she gave in._

_"You don't make a bad bloke, really." He mused. "I think it was when you never used the gunports that I got suspicious - either that or you had a very large bladder." _

_"Oh." Ioade was subdued._

_She barely noticed when he put his arm around her._

_"Then it was...well, you understand how boys' minds work." He whispered. "You did a fairly good job of kissing other girls. You really didn't want to get discovered, did you?"_

_"Oi did what was necessary, Jack." She answered plainly. "Nutting more and nutting less."_

_"Then there was me." The young pirate smiled suggestively at her. "I always thought you were too good looking for a lad. Why didn't you want the world knowin' you were a girl?"_

_Ioade gave a shrug that was more like a twitch of her shoulders._

_"Oi've seen hoi awful poirates trate women."_

_Jack gave her a sour look._

_"But you're beautiful." He whispered so quietly in her ear that she didn't quite understand at first._

_When she did, she turned her face to look at him. With his chin resting on her shoulder, their nose tips were so close they touched._

_"Jack..."_

_He smiled, and getting to his feet went into the shadows in the corner of the unlit galley. And Ioade came to him there._

__-~*~-__

__


	12. The Truce

Author's notes: Haha! I've left school! Yay! dances happily round her chair And here are the fruits of my labour: a full 7208 words to serve as an apology for my not having updated for so long. But then again I have spent the last 5 months being studious for my GCSEs nods seriously. Anyhow, you'll be glad to know that this chapter clears up and concludes with all the angsty stuff that's been occurring over the last few chapters (I never intended it to be this dark and gritty - honest!), and also incorporates a collaboration with Ildera's fic 'A Silver Dubloon', which has got to be one of the best Pirates fics of the lot, so go check it out! =) Due to new ff.net regulations I can't give out individual thanks for reviews this time, so instead I say a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and has been waiting so patiently for this next installment ;) Thanks guys, and I hope this has been worth the wait! 

Disclaimer: No ownership equals no lawsuit, savvy? 

-- 

Kate stopped just inside the threshold, and watched her captain, smiling a little. 

Ioade was nursing a mug of something - water, probably - and staring blindly into the cooking fire, with her old coat slung round her shoulders. The flickering light cast shadows across the threadbare places and the frays; they looked like the rough skin and callouses on a sailor's hands. Jack's hands. 

Kate took a deep breath, and approached the fire, shifting the weight of a long cloth-bound bundle in her hands as she went. It made a chinking noise as she did so, and Ioade looked round. 

"My faithful first mate." The girl said wryly. "Have you come to lift me from the darkness and light my way ever further?" 

Kate made no reply as she settled herself beside Ioade. 

"I've brought you this." She said then, holding out the bundle. "I've been keeping it safe for you. Peace offering." 

Ioade took it into her lap, and flipped back the cloth. Lying nestled in the linen was a cutlass, and smiling, the young captain slipped her hands beneath it and tilted it back and forth in her palms so that it caught the light. It had a beautifully fashioned hilt, once guilt-plated, but now only bearing sparse patches of the stuff; the strips of brown leather binding on the handle were worn so smooth that their edges merged into one another, and the hide was discoloured and sweat-stained; the blade bore countless scratches, nicks, tarnishes to the steel, like a mirror that hadn't been cleaned or dusted or so much as looked in for as long as century. But it was still sharp as broken glass; the tang was as solid as mountain and the sword balanced like a set of identical scales. The sword of her ancestor, Henry Morgan; a sword of captaincy. 

"Accepted." Said Ioade, smiling. 

Kate nodded, and turned her gaze to the fire. 

There was a silence. 

Ioade picked at a loose thread on her cuff. 

"I guess it...can't be easy, seeing Him after so long." 

The Italian pistoleer breathed deeply. 

"No more than it is for you." 

Ioade tugged at her ankles, bringing her crossed legs closer and huddling over them. 

"Let's not talk about this." Kate said softly. She held a hand out to the fire, and turned it this way and that, watching the movements of the light and the shadows over her skin. 

"How's Grapple?" Ioade asked, cradling the cutlass. 

"Asleep. Running a fever. No different really, I suppose." 

"Mmm." 

The second silence was punctuated by Kate's sigh. 

"Remind me - why are we going after this Chalice?" 

Ioade shrugged. 

"It's treasure, isn't it?" 

Kate paused from inspecting her hand, and gave her companion an even look. 

"A slightly different sort of treasure, I would have thought." 

"Aye, well..." Ioade cleared her throat and drummed her fingers on her knee. "Look, what pirate _wouldn't_ give more than their life's worth to hold rule over the entire ocean, eh?" 

"Bearing in mind that they would also be holding rule over ancient gods." 

"And?" 

"That's a little unwise in my opinion. I'm sure there was a reason why mortals were made mortals, and gods were made gods." 

"Kate, you're an atheist - you're not qualified to make statements like that." 

"Wouldn't _you_ be atheist if you were a pirate?" 

"Bloody well am." 

"Well then." 

"We're getting off the point here." Ioade turned towards Kate and leant forward in her eagerness to explain; her eyes shining excitedly, she gently clasped the woman's wrists. "Can you imagine what you could _do_ with that kind of power? You could have a favourable wind wherever you went, and never have to fear storms or treacherous waters!" 

"But isn't that part of the thrill of being a pirate?" Kate asked, frowning slightly. "The unpredictability? The adventure - the danger - of not knowing what's beyond the horizon?" 

"You'd still get that out of pillaging ports and waylaying ships." Ioade said, though she sounded a little less certain of herself than before. "And don't start talking about horizons - you're starting to sound like Jack." 

"Speaking of which," Kate reclined slightly, studying her companion. "_He's_ why you're so much more determined to get the Chalice now, isn't he?" 

Ioade threw Kate a dirty look, and swept her head back to take a draught from her previously-forgotten tankard. 

"I want the bloody thing, don't I? And that's the one thing I _won't_ get if he beats us to it." 

"But we're not exactly going to beat _him_ to it if we're sailing on the same ship, are we?" 

"I'm working on that." Ioade mumbled broodily. 

Kate looked back at the fire. She was like a great black cat: sleek and elegant and regal, blinking little. Her russet eyes were like glowing, soot-rimmed embers against her porcelain skin. 

"You _are_ on my side, aren't you Kate?" Ioade asked uncertainly, wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve. 

"Of course I am." Came the answer. With what seemed to be an effort against her reserved character, Kate turned with a smile. "You know you're more to me than just a captain." 

"Didn't know you were that way inclined, mate." Ioade said with a smirk. 

Kate looked away with an almost disdainful turn of her head, and watched the fire again. 

Ioade studied the hearth, choosing her words hesitantly. 

"I just thought that maybe you...might...have...divided loyalties-" 

"No. I know where they lie." 

Ioade looked up. Kate was watching her, one eyebrow raised slightly. Catlike, she looked away after a moment. 

"I...No." She shook her head. "No, they're not divided. If things had turned out differently, it might have been difficult; but..." 

"Why?" Ioade frowned. "What do you mean 'turned out differently'? You're not...well...in _love_ with him - Sparrow - are you?" 

Kate didn't reply for a while. 

"_You_ were, once." 

"Who says I'm not now?" Ioade muttered darkly, taking another swig from her tankard. Then she grimaced. "Kate, for pity's sake, you've got to let me start drinking again - being sober's doing funny things to me." 

Her first mate nodded. 

"So will you make a truce with him?" 

"Depends what his terms are." Ioade said, looking like she'd been sucking on a lemon for the past hour as she peered into the depths of her mug. 

"If I let you start drinking again?" 

"I'm afraid to say you're sorely tempting me. I'll think about it." 

"Good." 

Kate rose to her feet, and looked down at Ioade, who was still examining her tankard. 

"I'm retiring for the evening. Get some sleep - you look like you need it." 

"Thanks." Ioade said dryly. 

"Goodnight." 

"'Night, mate." 

As Kate reached the doorway, Ioade twisted round with a wicked smile and called after her: 

"Don't make too much noise, will you?" 

A pause. 

"If I could be bothered to, Ioade, I would shoot you." 

-- 

Jack retired late from the helm that evening: there was some indescribable joy of freedom about sailing the Pearl beneath a massive, revolving sky of constellations. Will had felt it too; the boy hadn't been meant for life on land, Jack mused as he dropped the curtains behind the Great Cabin doors and shrugged off his coat. 

Looking round, he saw that all the candles in the cabin had already been lit; and that a pistol brace was casually slung over the back of a chair. And that sitting in the gallery alcove, with her hair back in a loose messy knot and a book open in her lap, was Kate. Because she sat looking out of the window, her back was turned to Jack, and her stillness told him that she hadn't realised he was there. 

Quietly, he crept up behind her, indecisive as to how he should handle her. Things, understandably, hadn't been particularly comfortable between them since Kate's little 'confession' the other night. Normally, Jack would have expected a woman to either slap him or break down into inconsolable floods of tears when he said he didn't love them; after all, he _was_ Captain Jack Sparrow - girls fell for him port, bow and starboard. But a woman who simply smiled, tucked away all sign of personal feeling and accepted it with an "I know"? That was a completely different kettle of fish altogether, and one that Jack was less than fond of. The unexpected and unpredictable were two things which he hadn't a hope of arming himself against, and that was highly disconcerting. Now everytime he saw her, Jack felt a sudden onset of awkwardness, and ended up spending much of his time either clearing his throat or becoming very interested in something other than her - generally the ceiling or the toe of his left boot. 

She still hadn't acknowledged him by the time he was within a few inches of her, and that only made his predicament worse. His fingers began to spider-walk through the air: his mind was in a state of limbo as to whether he should get her attention or not, but his voice didn't seem to want to co-operate, and all his joints seized up. 

Kate sat there, gazing serenly and absent-mindedly out of the window, whilst Jack was nearly keeling over with panic behind her. Why the bloody hell was this so difficult?! 

Finally, he pulled himself together; extending his arm, he made to poke her. He leaned as far back from the tip of his finger as possible and screwed up his eyes as he looked away, as though expecting her to explode upon contact. At the very last moment however, his courage faltered. Kate stirred and settled herself a little further back into the cushions, and Jack froze mid-reach with a wide-eyed expression of fright on his face. 

'This is ridiculous!' He thought. 'Since when have I ever had trouble touching a woman?' 

Determinedly snuffing out the bad connotations that came to mind, he steeled himself one final time, and touched her shoulder. 

Kate blinked out of her reverie, and turned around. The sight that met her was Jack standing with his arm extended towards her, and a look on his face that made him look as thought he'd just swallowed some particularly foul medicine. 

"Jack?" 

The pirate's eyes flew open in surprise, and he regarded her peeringly for a moment. Then he seemed to come to his senses, and snatched back the hand that was touching her shoulder with the tip of one finger. He cleared his throat. 

"Yes, luv?" 

Kate opened her mouth, and then closed it again. 

"It's alright - I don't think I want to know on second thoughts." 

Jack gave a little smile, and nodded docilely. Kate turned back to gazing out of the window. 

The pirate watched her for a moment. Then his dark eyes flickered down to the book that lay open in her lap. 

"Something wrong?" He asked her. 

Kate looked up at him in a subdued and distracted sort of manner, as though she'd forgotten he was there and felt guilty about it. 

"What? Oh..." She shook her head. "Not really, no. Why do you ask?" 

Jack shrugged. 

"Guess I'm just used to you lavishing attention on me whenever you see me, that's all." 

Kate gave him a slightly tight smile and then began reading her book. 

There was a long silence, indicating that the conversation was well and truly closed, and thus Jack crossed to the table, cast himself down on one of the chairs and uncorked a nearby rum bottle. 

Kate heard the thud of his boots going up on the table-edge, followed by the 'gwop' of a swig, and shortly after that the sound of Jack humming to himself. Almost subconsciously, her finger began to tap against the book cover. 

The humming continued, punctuated here and there by the loud array of clicks and jangles made by the pirate's hair ornaments as he threw his head back to take a draught. The tapping of her finger quickened. 

The sound of humming changed to a tinny, sharp whistle through Jack's teeth, and Kate's gaze intensified so rapidly that she could almost see smoke coming out from the pages. Finally, she ceased drumming her fingers and snapped the book shut. Jack started in his chair. 

"Is it quite within your capabilities to be quiet?" Kate spat, taking some savage delight in Jack's speechlessness at her sudden temper. 

Turning on her heel like a whirling dervish, she stalked away into the bedchamber, wrenching the door shut behind her as she went. 

Jack stared after her at a loss. Then he contemplated his rum bottle with raised eyebrows. 

"Obviously that time of the month." He observed to it sagely. 

-- 

It was several hours later, and Kate lay listlessly on the bed, dark hair spilling over the sheets, her book open beside her hand. Why had she exploded like that? Why? She was a _controlled_ person - she _liked_ to be in control of what she did. She was normally more careful about such raw displays of emotion; why had this been the exception? 

The Italian closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it slowly out again. She was slipping. She had to get her strength of mind back. The recent confusion and turmoil and everyone involved in it had made her forget herself. And all because of _that_ _man_... 

She opened her eyes again and stared up at the canopy of the bed. It wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't _going_ to go anywhere, and she knew it. 

"Best just move on." She murmured, her fingers waking to reach out and touch the book. And then she stopped. She stopped because a voice had just whispered in her ear, and what it said made her freeze:  
"What's the matter?" It said quietly. "Are you scared? Are you scared that you're thawing?" 

Kate didn't answer. 

"Are you scared to revert back to the person you were before It happened?" 

Kate's fingers bent and their nails slowly, lightly drew across the page of the book. 

"Yes. You remember her, don't you? Younger, full of life, freer..." 

"Careless, vulnerable." Kate put in. 

"Ah, so it's vulnerability you're scared of, is it?" 

"No." 

"You've been cut once. You can't afford to be cut again." 

Kate continued to stare at the canopy. 

"I don't have to listen to a word you have to say." 

"But you know you will, because you can't get away from it, and you never will. You can't move on, Kate: you're too scarred and scabbed into yourself, licking your wounds, to move on." 

"That's not true." Kate said quietly, sitting up and getting off the bed. 

"No? Then tell me - why did you snap today? Why did you turn on Him like you did?" 

"I honestly couldn't say." Kate said calmly. 

There was a silence. 

"Well, I see you're back in control. You've got that mask back up again - good for you! How does it feel? To be heartless? To be emotionless, invulnerable, unbreachable, unloved..." 

"Get out!" 

Kate whipped round to face the speaker. A young woman, with beautiful dark hair, long, catlike eyes blazing ember-like in her catlike face, her rich red gown like blood against her pale skin and her Italian accent stark against Kate's acquired English one. 

"Get out? Get out of where, exactly?" The young woman asked. "Of you? Of your head, maybe?" 

"There's nothing of you in me anymore." Kate smiled coldly, shaking her head. "Not after what happened. You're gone. You're dead." 

"And look what I left behind me." Retorted Katelise with a smile like a brand. "A walking corpse." 

Kate swarmed forward, pistol drawn. There was a crack like rocks splitting, and a billow of acrid smoke. The bullet passed straight through Katelise, and left a splinter-staked crater in the door. 

"Get. Out." Kate snarled. 

The memory smiled, and for a moment, the face turned so cold and so mask-like that Kate felt a shiver pass through her spine; it was like trying to look through a stone wall. 

With a loud bang, a fist of wind threw the balcony doors open, blowing out all the candles and setting the bed drapes snapping. When next the pistoleer looked, Katelise had vanished on the gust. 

-- 

"The door's not opening!" Ioade exclaimed, rattling the handle. 

"Then move!" 

Will pushed past the girl and put his shoulder against the door. After several attempts to break it down, he had broken out in a light sweat and was kneading his shoulder. 

"Jack." He scowled at the obstacle. 

"Right here, mate." 

"Give me a hand." 

The door snapped open and flew round on its hinges to crash against the wall. Ioade was over the threshold in an instant, followed closely by Jack and Will and a fretting Elizabeth. 

Will shivered as he suddenly realised how cool the cabin was; the balcony doors had been flung open, and their light curtains were billowing in the sea breeze. On the floor infront of them lay Kate, her face white and damp; her flintlock was an inch from her fingertips. Looking back over his shoulder to where the door was slowly swinging closed again, Will saw the still faintly-smoking crater in the wood. He crossed to the woman, knelt and lifted her wrist. 

There was a tense silence. 

"She's alive." 

Everyone visibly relaxed. Then almost instantly Ioade's hackles were up again. 

"So why did she pass out? What's wrong with her?" 

Jack frowned as he noticed that everyone's eyes were on him. 

"What?" 

Ioade rolled her eyes angrily. 

"Was she ill?" She prompted, raising her eyebrows and spreading her hands. 

"No." Jack replied, as though it was a ridiculous suggestion. "She was fighting fit when I last saw her." He added in a grumble. 

"Jack..." 

"I didn't touch a hair on her head, savvy?" The pirate exclaimed defensively. 

Ioade released the hilt of her cutlass. 

"Git." She growled. 

Will, meanwhile, had gathered Kate's limp body up off the floor and into his arms where she lay like a puppet with its strings cut. The young blacksmith carried her to the bed. 

"Why the bloody hell did she shoot the door?" Ioade murmured to herself, staring at the lead ball embedded in the woodwork. 

"We'll know soon enough, I expect." Said Elizabeth. 

The pistoleer stirred on the bed. Ioade started towards her but she was stopped by Elizabeth's arm. 

"Get out of it." Snapped the young captain but the arm held firm. 

"Let her rest." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows meaningfully. 

They all turned as over on the bed, a little dry sob emitted from Kate's sleeping form. 

-- 

Jack didn't bother to raise his eyes from the map infront of him when there was a knock on the door. 

"Mmmm?" 

The door opened and Ioade looked in. 

"A grunt: that's welcoming." 

Jack's line of focus went to her. 

"Oh, it's you." 

"You're going t'have to stop being rude to me all the time, Jack, or I'll run out of insults." 

"Can't see that happening in a hurry, luv." Jack returned to his map as Ioade came into the cabin and closed the door. 

There was a long silence. 

"Kate's fine, if you wanted to know." Ioade said sullenly. "Thanks for asking." 

Jack raised his eyebrows at her. Ioade began to pick at the loose thread on her cuff. More silence. 

"She told me what happened earlier on today." Ioade began again. "She told me everything; you're a really heartless bastard, savvy?" 

"Savvy." Jack replied without much expression, pouring over a cluster of pinprick islands in the Atlantic. "I take it she told you that too." 

"No, actually, _she_ didn't." Ioade shot back nastily. "I decided that by me onesies." 

Jack cleared his throat as he flicked the drooping top-half of the map upright again. 

"No need to get shirty, luv." 

"You know I could slap you right now!" 

"Why don't you? Nothin's ever stopped you before." 

"Because I ain't come here to scrap with bilge-sucking cockroaches like ye, that's why!" 

They glowered at each other for a long moment; Ioade's breathing was ragged and her grey eyes blazed hotly like woodsmoke. Something in Jack's face was familiar to her as she stared at him, and it took her a while to put her finger on it: a look; an expression; one that she had not seen for many, many years... 

_Firelight glimmered in Jack's eyes as he wordlessly fixed her gaze, refusing to relinquish it. Ioade awkwardly pulled her woollen blanket closer about her, but gazed defiantly back; overhead, unfamiliar constellations rolled across vast, dark skies with invisible motion, and all about them the air was filled with the smells of rice, curry and spices, the sound of lyrical voices speaking Bengali and the cries of peacocks._

_The Esmarelle had sunk after a vicious fight at sea, most hands lost; that included Voutoure, and so their obligatory ties to the ship had been severed. The crew had dispersed, mercifully released by their adversaries whose only business was with the loot; a few months journey along with a few of the other surviving hands on a Middle Eastern merchant ship called The Golden Monkey had seen Jack and her safely into port at Chennai in the Bay of Bengal, and there they had remained since their docking. Ioade was frequently troubled by her stomach now, which didn't agree with the spicy food, and the necessity to lie low had been a hindrance and a challenge for them both: Chennai was one of the chief trading ports for the East India Company. Jack had already been caught once; only cunning and a fat stroke of luck had allowed him escape with his life._

_And now she had broken the news to Jack about her leaving; she had found a vacancy for Ship's Cook aboard an oriental vessel bound for China, and had snapped it up like a starving dog. There were no other vacancies in the crew._

_Ioade shifted uncomfortably, still torn by decision in her mind: she wanted to go home, back to Ireland, to pick up the pieces of her life and start again where she'd left off, and in order to do that she needed means of travel and money - this passage to China ensured her at least one of those two things. But on the other hand was Jack: she loved him, he loved her; they had shared in many things together, they shared a bed, and two heads were always better than one. What was she to do?_

_Across the firepit, Jack's skin was ruddy in the flickering light. His shirt was loose and the material was so worn that the neckline gaped open to show a generous amount of smooth, lean chest; Ioade wasn't complaining. His features were more mature now - both their faces were - and his moustache and beard grew readily as opposed to the non-conformative rate at which they had done so before. His voice had a deeper, almost more gravelly quality to it, and the drink had lent a distinctive slurr to his speech; he had taken to accenting his already striking eyes with kohl. Such a beautiful man, Ioade had often thought. Disgustingly and typically piratical in manner, but so beautiful..._

_"So when's the ship leavin' then?" Jack's rough voice interrupted Ioade's guilty reflections._

_"Waht?" _

_"When's this ship of yours leavin' for China?"_

_"Few days." Ioade murmured, staring into the fire._

_Jack grunted and took a swill of something from a tankard._

_"Jack, oi'm...oi'm sorry. Eht ain't loik oi want t'leave yois here, but...well, oi doin't, savvy? Oi really doin't!"_

_Answer came there none. Wonderful. Ioade curled up tighter and miserably tugged her thin blanket further about her shoulders. Money and home, or love? Money, and home, or love? Stow bloody life - she needed a drink..._

"Well, what was I _supposed_ to do? We had little enough to survive on as it was! We couldn't've just stayed in India..." 

"I don't know why you're getting fussed with me, darlin'." Jack raised his eyebrows and held up his hands defensively. "You're the one who decided to go gallivanting off to China by yourself." 

"I had no choice!" Ioade exclaimed angrily. 

"Bilge, luv! Remember that boat I found-?" 

"Bilge yerself! There ne'er was any boat, and full well ye be knowin' it!" The honey-haired girl lapsed back into her seafaring brogue. "Ye was just lookin' fer an excuse to be keepin' me there!" 

"I was bloody desperate!" Jack errupted, shooting to his feet and accidentally knocking over the chair. 

_"Waht?" Ioade's eyes burrowed his own incredulously. "You've foind waht?"_

_"Ioade, luv..."_

_"Answer me!"_

_"Listen..."_

_"You're lying! You've got t'be..."_

_"No!" Jack took her hands imploringly. "I've come across some money, luv! We buy a boat, cross the Atlantic, swan back into the Caribbean and settle down somewhere."_

_"Tee Atlantic!" Ioade's eyes narrowed and she shook her head disbelievingly. "Tee Atlantic - **bloody** - Ocean? Tuh whole of eht?! Yois - you're mad Jack." She broke away. "Two of us in a leakin' row boat, crossin' tee Atlantic wit tuh little tat we have as eht ehs! We'd doi afore we get tear! And oi expect yoi'll be wantin' me t'wear a dress and all, eh?"_

_"Ioade, just listen to me, darlin'!" Jack growled._

_"Oi doin't knoi, Jack!" Ioade moaned suddenly, turning away and then turning back again as she moved. Torn by her dilemma, she tugged feverishly at the loose threads on her cuff in anguish. "Oi doin't knoi! Oi doin't knoi! Tuh ship leaves-"_

_"In two days, aye, you told me!" Jack barked._

_Ioade covered her face with her hands and tried to rub away the pain that was blossoming in her forehead. Jack looked away with his mouth set firm._

_"You can come with me lass, or we can say goodbye. S'up to you."_

_"Tisn't tat simple." Ioade mumbled._

_"Well the way you've planned things, luv, it looks like it to me."_

_"You're heartless, Sparrow!" Ioade spat with a startling change in manner. "Heartless and mad! Madder than-"_

__"-'All the men in an insane asylum', that's what you told me, Ioade!" Jack shouted. "And it's bloody well kept me alive for the last thirteen years!" 

He stared her down, wishing that he had the face to break out of her personal space because it made his feel like it was on fire. 

"There never was any boat, and well you know it." Ioade repeated quietly. "You were just looking for an excuse to keep me there." 

Jack took a deep breath and gazed right back. 

"Aye." He nodded. "Tried to get passage on a merchant ship bound for Brittany at one point, but _that_ fell through. Just as well really, if you think about it; surrounded by French merchants..." He trailed off indicatively. 

Ioade raised her eyebrows. 

"Eunuchs?" 

"The lot of them." 

_Jack sat on the edge of the cot, shirt off, staring listlessly at the floorboards as he listened to Ioade undressing for bed. The only light in their tiny inn room was a single candlestump atop a stool in the corner, and it flittered weakly as though it were ill, its flame gradually dying with every passing second._

_Jack reached down for the rum bottle that sat by his bare foot and took a swig. Across the room, Ioade gave a quiet sigh._

_Somewhere beyond the crude shutters of their window, the raucous cries of peacocks coming back to roost in the ruined palaces of Raj foot-princes snagged the tepid night air, and softer still was the murmur of the city and the dreamy chime of sitar and cymbal music._

_"You don't have to go." Jack said, a little bitterly._

_"I don't want to talk about it." He was told. There was a rustle as Ioade slipped into bed behind him. Another silence ensued._

_"Come to bed." Ioade's voice was subdued, and Jack looked down as her hand stroked his arm. "Please? I don't want to talk about it."_

_"Aye." Jack took another swig of rum, and bowed his head. It was going to be a long night._

__"Aye," Ioade snapped angrily. "But what _I_ did! What _I_ did, and that lie you told, that was _nothing_ compared to what you did next, was it?" 

Jack glared at her. 

"Disappeared in the middle of the night! Remember, Jack? Took the money, gave no warning, left me stranded without so much as a by-your-leave?" 

"Pirate, luv." Jack narrowed his eyes. "And if I may say so, I hardly left you stranded: you had that nice little ticket to the Far East of yours, eh?" 

Ioade's gaze meandered guilty to the floor like a falling feather. 

"It was the opportune moment." Jack continued. "I couldn't stay there anymore than you could. And seein' as how you were kind enough to pick a ship that didn't have a place on it for me, what else could I have done?" 

_Jack slipped unobtrusively among the revelling pirates, determined to pickpocket at least something to pay for his own passage out of port, preferably before certain parties caught up to him. He'd left Ioade sleeping peacefully in the room, promising he would return quickly. She'd given no sign that she'd heard him, but he knew she had. After all, if she woke up to find him gone, the worst he would get would be a tongue-lashing, wouldn't it?_

_Thinking of Ioade quickly made his mood turn bitter. How could she leave without him? Hadn't he looked out for her? Hadn't he saved her life? And now she was sailing off to China without so much, he felt, as even a glance back over her shoulder at him. He felt his gut twist as some half-formed thought-train consisting of Ioade, him, bond and love appeared in his mind, but he angrily banished it and set his jaw. What was she to him anyway? He was Jack Sparrow, aspiring pirate-extraordinaire; she was just a common, selfish Irish wench. _

_A raucous laugh drew his attention to where a seasoned pirate was sitting, bottle of rum in one hand, a pistol in the other. A large bulging purse hung heavily on his belt. Jack's eyes narrowed. _

_'Perfect,' He thought. 'I can nip round to his side, take the purse and be gone before he wants another round.' The pirate was so drunk, there was no way he would notice the young man's light fingers at his belt. _

_He moved quietly through the crowd, keeping his eyes on his target, until he was right behind his victim. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him too closely, he dropped to one knee, and reached for the purse. There was a click, and Jack looked up into the barrel of a pistol. _

_The drunken pirate glared unsteadily at him. _

_"What have we here, mates?" He declared loudly. "A mongrel trying to pick me pocket?"_

_Before Jack had time to blink, a heavy hand had clamped onto the front of his shirt, and was jerking him roughly up to full height. He was yanked none-too-gently forward to look into face his would-be victim. _

_"D'ye know what becomes of those who try to pick a pirate's pocket, lad?" He was asked, and Jack was struck with the sudden impression that this old hand was not as drunk as he had first seemed. _

_He struggled to hide a huge swallow as the barrel of the pistol was pressed against his ribcage. The pirate was watching him closely, blue eyes piercing as they bore into Jack's own. _

_"Happens neither do I." He laughed suddenly, dropping the young man abruptly. _

_Jack stumbled to regain his balance, and found himself propelled to the door by the same pirate's strong hand, out into the cool air. He was released again, this time turning to stand defiantly before his aggressor._

_"Who are you?" He demanded, partly irritated at being taken for a fool and that this old sea crab was wasting his time; but despite himself, he was genuinely curious. _

_The old pirate leant nonchalantly against the stone wall, regarding the lad with knowing eyes. _

_"Some call me the scourge of the Caribbean," he said softly, lighting his pipe with a practised hand. Jack almost sighed aloud with relief at the name of home. "Some, the king of the ocean. Me, I prefer me name."_

_Jack drew himself up straighter, forcing himself to glare at the suddenly sober man before him._

_"And that is?" He asked casually. _

_The pirate grinned. _

_"Elias Fitzpatrick, lad."_

_Jack felt his stomach drop to the floor in cold fear. Elias Fitzpatrick, captain of the Red Dragon, was one of the most feared pirates of the seas, known across the world for his cruelty and ruthlessness. And he had just tried to pick his pocket. Oh dear. _

_Captain Fitzpatrick looked the younger man up and down, seeing far more than Jack would ever have believed. He saw strength, both of the body and of the will, and fortitude, a life that had seen many hardships and would weather many more. He saw a destiny, one of love and hate, of joy and sorrow, a life that would be worth living. There was far more to this pretty face and attitude than first met the eye, he decided. _

_"Now don't look so scared, lad." He chided; Jack's astonishment was as readable as a book. "Rule of piracy; never let anyone see yer fear, least of all another pirate, and I could make a pirate of ye yet."_

_Jack bristled at this, anger flaring in his dark eyes. _

_"I bloody am a pirate!" He exclaimed, stung by the assumption that he wasn't._

_Fitzpatrick gave him a level stare. _

_"Self-belief, good," He murmured. "Who was yer mother?"_

_Jack felt his lips clamp shut, his face shut down. He never spoke about his mother. She had been the one person he had ever truly loved, and she had been taken away from him. _

_"What's it to you, old man?" He snarled, confused when Fitzpatrick grinned at his angry outburst. _

_"Lad, there's only one woman ye could have got that temper from." He chuckled. "Yer Ann Bonny's boy, little Sparrow."_

_Jack started, shocked at how much this man knew about him already. Fitzpatrick extended a hand to the startled young man, his eyes softening slightly as he looked on him. _

_"Now I've never been one to let a wrong go unpunished." He began, and Jack felt his eyes widen against his will. "So I feel I must make a point with ye, lad. Join me crew, or we settle this here, with steel."_

_Jack blinked. This wasn't quite what he had expected. _

_"Why should I join your crew, mate?" He asked warily. _

_Fitzpatrick raised an eyebrow._

_"So's I can teach ye to be the best bloody pirate the seas have known, lad." He said, as though this was blindingly obvious. "Right now, there's not a chance in hell that ye could beat me wi' steel. Yer mother would want ye to be the best, boy. Do we have an accord?"_

_Jack stared at this old pirate, sorely tempted by his offer. But how did a man like Fitzpatrick know so much about a stripling like him? His mother was one of the better known among the pirates of the Caribbean, but then a woman in any profession was a rarity. After all, Ioade was fine proof of that, wasn't she? _

_Ioade. A flash of guilt stabbed through him as he realised he would not now be returning to wake her. Oh, she would be furious with him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, she deserved it; an eye for an eye, he thought viciously. And yet...He glanced up at where Fitzpatrick watched him. How could he trust this smiling, deadly man? And the answer came to him that of course he couldn't. But part of him had no choice, and part him just wanted revenge. His eyes thinned to slits. Yes. Forget Ioade. She was his past now._

_He thrust his hand out to smack against the captain's palm, unknowingly sealing his fate._

_'We have an accord.'_

"And that's why?" Ioade's words were distorted by a blocked nose, and tears were running openly down her face. Her cuffs were soaked through from attempts to dry them. "You left to spite me for being torn between wanting to go home and being in love?" 

Jack slammed his fist down on the table. 

"There were _plenty_ of other ships leaving port with more than one vacancy, Ioade!" He shouted. "But you were ready to leave me there! With the East India and no money and no secure way out!" 

"And _look_ what you did to me!" Ioade sniped back. "You were just pissed off that I got there before you, and that I was the one sailing out on the next tide with a bright outlook!" 

Jack narrowed his eyes threateningly at her, and then moodily contemplated the view beyond the gallery window. 

As she attempted to mop up the tears with her cuff again, Ioade began to laugh bitterly. 

"Kate's been trying to force a truce between us ever since we came aboard." 

"Don't I bloody well know it, luv." Jack replied through a set jaw. "Kept waking me up at midnight to talk about it. I'll tell you something: that lass isn't as green as she is apple-looking!" 

There was a lull. To Ioade's pounding head, it was bliss. 

"Perhaps I can forgive you leaving me." She said eventually. "I can forgive you leaving me, and I can forgive you taking the money; it wasn't as though I needed what was left of it, seeing as how I already had passage and all..." She faltered guiltily. "But I can't forgive the Horse." She concluded with more conviction. "That ship was me life, me whole world. Ye be knowin' what the Pearl is to ye - ye be married t'your ship, and I was, well, that way inclined towards me own, savvy?" 

Jack silently contemplated this for a moment. 

"Aye." 

"So." 

Ioade sat down on a nearby chair, and began to pick at her cuff again. Jack looked around the room for the nearest point of retreat, and found it in his rum bottle. He unstopped it with a 'pop' and took a long draught before offering it to Ioade; he slid it across the table in her direction. Ioade ignored the bottle and watched it slither unhindered right past her elbow to tip over the edge of the table. She winced slightly as it smashed on the floor. Jack raised his eyebrows. 

"Looks like a bit of a stalemate to me, luv." He observed. "Maybe dear Ms Cole was right after all." 

Ioade gave out a bitter breath of laughter. 

"What, maybe we're both to blame?" 

"Oh hark: she admits she was wrong." Jack said darkly. "How the mighty do fall." 

"I wasn't admitting it, I was questioning it." Ioade sniped nastily. She glowered down to where her fingers were still busy with her cuff. "Make a truce. Ha! I'd rather go to Hell." 

Jack grinned suddenly, his gold teeth glittering in the dim light. 

"By my reckonin' luv, we're already headed there." 

He watched her as she registered his words and looked up at him. 

"What d'we have to lose?" He shrugged. "I mean really?" 

Ioade glowered, but it was half-hearted. 

"Dunno." She sniffed. "Face? Pride?" 

"S'only a truce, darlin'; doesn't mean we have to be nice to each other." 

Ioade nodded. 

"I s'pose." 

Another brief silence was added to the countless score of that evening. 

"So we have an accord then, Morgan?" 

The young captain raised her eyes to meet Jack's. 

"Aye. We have an accord." 

Their palms smacked together across the table. Over in the corner, the last candle gave a sick little flicker, and went out in a curl of smoke. 

-- 

When Ioade returned to her cabin, she found Kate sitting up on her cot reading. Colour had returned to the Italian woman's cheeks, and her usual serenity had been restored to her. She looked up. 

"You look frayed, my dear." She observed as Ioade flopped down on the opposite cot. 

"You have your truce." Replied the younger woman through her hands. "It's done. It's dusted. The whole bloody mess of history's been dredged up and burnt." 

Kate raised an eyebrow. 

"So you're reconciled?" 

Ioade laughed. 

"They should redefine that word." 

She glanced across at her first mate. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Much better, thank you." Kate put aside her book. "I suppose you might say I've done a little history burning of my own." 

"Find anything interesting?" 

Kate's face became troubled by a strange expression, and Ioade was shocked by her companion's unusual openness. But then again, it was a shocking sort of day. 

"That question has two possible answers." 

"And they are?" 

"Yes and no." 

Ioade rolled her eyes and rocked back on her cot. 

"Well that's helpful, Kate; thanks for that." 

Kate fixed her with glowing eyes. 

"I don't particularly want to talk about it right now; but I think, perhaps, I might finally be on the way to laying my demons to rest." 

"I know what you mean, mate." Murmured Ioade. 

Kate smiled slightly. 

"Anyway, I think this might merit a drink." 

She got up off her cot and knelt to reach under the bed. Ioade's eyes brightened. 

"You mean...?" 

"Yes, you can get inebriated again." 

"Oh, heavens blessed!" Ioade exclaimed happily as Kate retrieved a large rum bottle from beneath a loose plank. 

Ioade caught it as sailed through the air towards her. 

"And you can stop sleeping with Jack now." She gabbled, unable to get the cork out fast enough. 

Kate made no response, but simply maintained a smile as Ioade gulped down the spirit like a fish. 

"Ah!" Ioade sighed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "_So_ much better." 

She took another long draught, and another, and then lowered the bottle. 

"So what happened, earlier on today?" She asked. "I mean, with the door and all?" 

Kate directed her an even gaze. 

"You would laugh." She assessed calmly. 

"No." 

"Then," Kate hesitated. "Between friends?" 

"Between friends." 

"Alright. Between friends: I saw a ghost." 

Ioade's eyes widened slightly. 

"The ghost of something that was, and that no longer is. In some mad state of angry delirium I shot it in an attempt to banish it, though I hardly know why, and that's why the door was...like it was. But it made me stop and rethink a few matters, which I suppose was the purpose of the thing." Kate's voice became vague and then died away altogether, and she sat thoughtfully for moment. 

"And that is all you need to know." She said finally, and smiled. 

Ioade nodded sagely and took another drink. 

"Being sober does odd things to you, you know; I should get you drunk sometime." 

"Or maybe not." Kate replied with a small smile. 

The honey-haired girl sighed again, and twisted the rum bottle round to inspect its contents. 

"Mind you," She mused. "It's been a very, _very_ strange day." 

-- 


End file.
